


Loss and the Pain of Rebirth

by baby_punk



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Azula (Avatar) Redemption, Bathing/Washing, F/F, Fire Nation Politics (Avatar), Fix-It of Sorts, Gen, Loss of Bending Ability, M/M, Mutual Grooming, Realization of Sexuality, Slow Burn, descriptions of injuries, discussions of trauma, minor/not endgame relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:21:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 62,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26763514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baby_punk/pseuds/baby_punk
Summary: What if Azula wasn't taken straight to a mental institution after the last Agni Kai? What if she was still in the Royal Palace when Zuko was crowned Fire Lord, and for the first days of his rule? What if she was never locked up and left to descend into madness?This is that story: following the steps Azula takes to find redemption while Zuko navigates ruling a war-torn country.
Relationships: Azula & Iroh (Avatar), Azula & Zuko (Avatar), Azula/Suki (Avatar), Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 96
Kudos: 162





	1. Arc 1 Part 1

**Author's Note:**

> endless thanks to [Olly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum) for their beta work! thank you for keeping me honest and making sense of my rambling tangets - you've become a real pal and i'm so grateful 🥺

Zuko had had the whole of the flight back to the Royal Palace to conceptualize the fight he knew he’d be having. In a way, it was what was always going to happen: it was always going to come down to brother vs. sister. There was never room for peace, not when animosity had been a flame stoked between them since they were children. Once, Zuko would’ve jumped at the chance to prove himself against Azula; now, he felt the weight of their Agni Kai before it was even invoked. It was what had to be done.

For Zuko, the Agni Kai was mostly a blur. One moment he was bending the biggest waves of fire he ever had in his life; the next, he was laying on the ground, electric currents threading through his veins and making him convulse, a massive burn across his core. He could hear Azula tearing around the courtyard, making taunts. Part of him thought, _Aang doesn’t need me to come through this. Azula can finish the job. Someone else can be Fire Lord_. 

There was crashing in his ears — his shuddering pulse, the phantom roar of flames. But either minutes or hours later, Katara was next to him. The convulsions had more or less dissipated, enough so that there was no danger in her laying her hands on his bare torso.

“Oh, Zuko,” Katara murmured. She wasn’t looking at his face, but through his half-opened eyes Zuko could see the face she was pulling.

“‘S nothing,” Zuko grunted. His jaw was clenched; it didn’t want to work properly. 

“Idiot,” Katara said, already pulling cool water over her hands. “You saved my life.”

The moon wasn’t full, but what was there in the sky certainly helped her heal the burn. Zuko didn’t try to speak again, just laid on the ground and tried to relax as some of the pain drained from his chest.

When there wasn’t that pain at the forefront of his mind, a critical thought occurred to him. Immediately, he tried to stagger into a sitting position. His jaw was still mostly locked, and there was no time to try and work it open. Azula could be anywhere, waiting to strike.

Katara used her hand still on his chest to push him back down. “You need to wait a little more before you move,” she chided, “I’ve really only healed the surface. I’ve got to heal your knee, too.”

“ _Azula_ ,” Zuko managed, scrabbling his hand through the dirt toward her. Didn’t she know the danger? Why was she worried about his _knee?_

Katara raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Taken care of. Can’t you hear her?”

 _Hear_ her? Zuko frowned — well, he tried, and found his face already there. He took a deep breath and tried to quiet the roaring in his ears. It was just that the phantom fire sounded a lot like it was broken into breaths. This time when he tried to sit up, Katara let him.

“What happened?”

Katara shrugged. “There’s storm drains. I guess she didn’t consider that I’d be able to find water here. I let her come over to me, right over the drain, and froze her.”

Of course. Of _course_ it had been that simple for Katara to take down his crazy sister.

“Is she still frozen?”

“No, there was a length of chain left out, I guess from some sort of maintenance. While she was frozen, I went in and bound her. She’s still over there by the drain.”

“I want to see her.”

Katara wrinkled her nose. She pointed over Zuko’s shoulder; he turned to see a plume of blue fire shoot into the air with a roar. “I don’t know if that’s wise.”

Since when could Azula breathe fire? It made sense, in a way, but Uncle Iroh was the only other person Zuko knew who could. Maybe it was hereditary. Still, Zuko squared his shoulders and tried to get his legs under him. “She’s my sister.”

Katara didn’t push him on that. She only sighed and asked him to wait a moment.

Before he could stand, Katara had to heal the exit burn on Zuko’s knee. It was the part of his body that had hit the ground first after Azula blasted him. The exit burn was so much smaller than the pulsing, crater-like entrance wound that Zuko hadn’t initially registered it.

“Aang’s exit burn is on the bottom of his foot,” Katara said softly as she healed the burned patch on Zuko’s knee. 

He got the feeling that she was saying so less to be conversational and more out of her attachment to Aang. She could put on a calm facade all she liked, but she was worried about Aang — and Zuko was, too. How long would it be before they knew what transpired between him and Ozai?

She helped him stand, and steadied him when he wavered immediately upon getting to his feet. His chest was pulsing — Katara wasn’t kidding when she’d said she had only been able to heal so much of it. Zuko glanced down at his body. It was like a great cannonball had hit him in the sternum, leaving a great burn about the size of his clasped hands with less severe burns already healed in a halo around it. His shoes were gone, blasted off somewhere, and his clothes were patchy and singed.

“I couldn’t keep it from scarring,” Katara said apologetically, noticing his examination. “Um, and Aang has one, too,”

“Yeah,” Zuko said numbly, “he does.” Azula had done that, too.

Leaning on each other, the two of them turned and approached the storm drain Azula was chained to.

Zuko had never heard Azula cry like that. When they were little, _he_ was always the crier. Azula seldom was pushed to tears, and if she was, they were the angry, silent kind. These tears were anything but silent. She was wailing, gasping to breathe between sobs. Every now and then, a particularly powerful wail was enough to propel a jet of blue fire across the courtyard. She didn’t seem to be aiming or even aware of what she was doing.

Zuko and Katara stood to the side of where she sat, both ready to deflect any fire that may come their way. Katara had gone so far as to pull some water from the storm drain and hold it in a sphere between her hands.

From this distance, Zuko could see exactly why Azula’s appearance before the Agni Kai had seemed wrong. Azula was incredibly disheveled, and not just because she was sopping wet from Katara’s interception. Her hair was down around her shoulders, free from the usual Fire Nation topknot she kept it in. Zuko’s first impression of that was not that she resembled their long-haired father, but that she looked strikingly similar to their mother. Her bangs had been sloppily cut, and where they stuck to her sweaty forehead were terribly uneven. Crying had turned her creamy skin blotchy and pink. 

Beyond that, though, Zuko realized she had burns. There were only small ones on her face; patches where embers had blown back at her. Zuko cast his eyes over the rest of his sister and saw her hands, clenched into fists, were raw and burnt all over. Usually, fire benders were resistant, if not impervious, to their own generated fire. It seemed, though, that Azula had been so uncomposed that either the flames she was casting or the flames Zuko had sent her way had actually burned her.

Part of him felt sick, that he’d actually harmed her. Like, sure, they’d been dueling in a manner that ended in murder half the time, but it was still hard to wrap his mind around. 

Part of him felt sharply vindicated. She probably deserved it.

Not _probably_. She’d tried to kill him, _and_ his friends, and she’d wreaked all kinds of havoc. Certainly that was deserving of a few burns in retribution. In fact, that was probably deserving of death.

The thought turned Zuko’s stomach. What was he going to do with her?

Katara had a different question for him. He could feel her gaze on him before she spoke. “So… does this mean you’re Fire Lord?”

Zuko considered this. Azula hadn’t fought the Agni Kai properly; that is, it was supposed to be just him and her. Technically, Azula forfeited the moment she decided to target Katara. The rules were that the duel was to first contact — or, more often than not in the current political climate, to the death. Even though Zuko intercepted the lightning and took the first contact, Azula had broken the rules first. Of course it could be held in contention, but was relatively clear cut. He’d won.

“I guess it does,” he breathed. It was an incredibly foreign thought. He had finally, _finally_ made peace with his destiny diverging from the monarchy. He had made peace with being dishonorable and disgraceful. And here it was, everything he’d put behind him now placed in his hands.

Katara bumped him with her shoulder. “I’d say congratulations, but that feels sort of weird.”

“You don’t need to say anything.” Zuko told her. “Who knows, the Fire Sages might refuse to accept my claim to the throne and challenge me to another Agni Kai.”

Katara gave him a more forceful shove with her shoulder. “Don’t even joke about that,” she said. “Anyway, we’ve got to figure out what to do with your sister.”

“Do you think we can just wait for her to tire herself out?” Zuko asked, half-hopefully. He had no idea how to even approach her.

“Ugh, where’s Ty Lee when you need her?” Katara mused.

Zuko, without thinking, said, “We might check the dungeon. I wouldn’t put it past Azula, after what happened at the Boiling Rock when Mai helped us escape.”

Katara gave him a withering look. “That was rhetorical. And anyway, we’re gonna manage fine without her.”

“We are?”

“Yes,” Katara nodded, putting her hands on her hips. Azula, still a safe distance away from them, was still sobbing — though her breaths of fire were considerably smaller. “One of us is just going to have to knock her out.”

As if anything could ever be easy.

There had been panic through the palace when Zuko and Katara approached with Azula’s prone body between them and Appa lumbering behind them. Though the Agni Kai had been right in front of the palace, close enough that a section of the roof was smoldering, it was clear that the household hadn’t come out to watch. There wasn’t the usual number of staff there, but enough that panicked shouts at their approach could be heard echoing through the corridors — _the princess is dead! Azula is dead!_ Zuko couldn’t tell if the shouts were jubilant or fearful.

“She’s not dead,” he yelled, as loud as he dared with Azula so uncertainly incapacitated. “Someone get a bedroom ready!”

“A _bedroom_?” Katara asked. “Is that wise?”

“I’m not putting her in a prison cell,” Zuko said, his tone brokering no room to argue. “She’s not in the right state of mind.”

“But a bedroom?” Katara pressed.

Zuko’s arm was aching with the weight of his sister, and his burnt chest was throbbing. His tone was clipped when he replied, “There are guest suites throughout the palace. Some of them are quite spare. We’ll get her secured in one of the ones without… windows… or anything.”

It was clear that Katara didn’t agree with him and that she had questions, but she didn’t say anything else. A couple of maids came around the corner, Zuko recognizing them as members of the intimate household staff.

“I-is she dead?” the one he recognized gasped, her hand over her mouth. She seemed genuinely upset. The other maid peered closely at him. “Prince _Zuko_?”

“Just unconscious,” Zuko answered. He wondered how much the household actually cared about Azula — he knew how terrible she was to them.

“She’s a prisoner,” Katara cut in, her voice hard and even. “And he’s the _Fire Lord_ now.”

There was an obvious look of surprise between the maids and they both dropped into deep bows when he opened his mouth to explain. Zuko sighed. “There was an Agni Kai. She forfeited. The Fire Sages were present. Right now, I need one of the back bedrooms prepared.”

The maids kept their eyes averted even when they straightened and hurried away.

Zuko sagged a little when they disappeared. “Thanks, Katara,”

She looked a little pleased with herself, even with her nose stuck in the air. “ _Someone’s_ gotta stick up for you.”

Thankfully, a room was prepared in record time for Azula. It probably helped, Zuko mused, that no one had dared visit the palace in a very long time. When Azula’s maid returned to inform Zuko that they had the room ready, she brought with her one of the young guards who hadn’t gone with the rest of the army in the air fleet. Zuko gratefully passed over his sister, who was unceremoniously thrown over the guard’s shoulder. There was no telling how long she’d be unconscious, so the group hurried to the room. 

As Zuko had instructed, it was one of the smaller rooms set off one of the interior corridors. It was a seldom used room, as the lack of windows made it dark and unfavorable. There wasn’t even a proper en suite bathroom like most of the nice guest rooms had. Instead, there was a spare bathtub and a chamber pot behind a set of screens in the back of the room. It was more or less perfect for containing Azula.

Azula was deposited on the bed, still bound in chains, and Zuko looked around the room. Anything excessive needed to be removed. He had no doubt Azula would wake up and start burning things without hesitation. While the structure of the palace had been fortified to withstand most fire blasts after one notorious fight between Sozin and Roku, draperies and textiles were still at risk.

At Zuko’s instruction, the maid and the guard began pulling down the tapestries displaying the Fire Nation emblem and rolling up the rugs that covered the cold volcanic rock floor.

“What about the lamps?” Katara asked, indicating the heavy bronze candelabras on either side of the bed. They could easily be used as weapons, if it came to that. With a sigh, Zuko nodded and went to collect them. It was when he was right at her side, holding one of the candelabras, that Azula opened her eyes.

She knew better than to ask where she was. Instead, she caught Zuko’s eye and held it, fury burning in the gold of her irises. Katara noticed the way Zuko’s shoulders stiffened, and she waved at the maid and the guard to usher them out the door. It wouldn’t do for them to be caught in the crossfire. With them gone, she went to stand next to Zuko.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Azula growled. Her voice was gravelly from the strain of her crying and screaming.

Katara didn’t answer her, instead levelling a cool gaze at Azula. With Katara there, Zuko went around to collect the other candelabra and take them to the door.

“Going so soon, dear brother?” Azula said to his back, a clear attempt at her usual haughty tone.

“Just clearing up,” Zuko answered, returning to Katara’s side. “I think we’ll be sticking around for a while.”

Azula’s face crumpled, just for a moment, before she could smooth it back into a mask. “What, don’t you have anywhere better to be?”

Zuko, too, had composed his face into an impassive mask. “Not yet. There will have to be a new coronation planned, and meanwhile, probably a funeral.”

That got Azula’s mask to slip once more.

“No,” she gasped, immediately catching his meaning.

Katara was less sympathetic. She leaned into the clear nerve Zuko had struck. “We’re waiting now for his body to come back with Aang.”

“How do you know it won’t be the other way around?” Azula demanded, lurching forward like she wanted to strike Katara. Her arms were still bound to her sides, though, and she was unsteady from being unconscious. It was easy for Zuko to push her back down. 

Truly, they had no way of knowing if Aang had been successful or not. He was in Wulong Forest, hopefully with Sokka, Toph, and Suki. There hadn’t been any news yet in the capital city.

Katara, though, didn’t hesitate. “Aang’s the _Avatar_ ,” she snapped, “and Ozai is no match for him.”

Unfortunately, the direct result of that was Azula promptly dissolving into increasingly panicked screams. “No, _no_ , _nonono_!”

Zuko sighed and put his hand on Katara’s shoulder. There was no point in chastising Katara; even in the light of another meltdown, it was clear Azula still wasn’t back to her usual dangerous self. Katara and Zuko backed away, ending up against one of the walls. Katara sank to the floor, resting her head back to look up at Zuko.

“You should go,” she said, soft over Azula’s screams.

“What?” Zuko asked.

Katara rolled her eyes, “I _said_ , you—”

“No, I _heard_ you,” Zuko said, “but you want me to leave you?”

“I don’t mind staying with her,” Katara said with a shrug. “I can take her down again if I need to. You need to address the household, though. Or however this is supposed to work. I haven’t exactly been a part of a coup before.”

“This isn’t a _coup_ ,” Zuko tried not to snap, “and you don’t have a water source to freeze her like you did in the courtyard.”

“It’s kinda a coup,” Katara countered. “And anyway, there’s a bathtub. There’s plumbing in the palace, right? I’ll just turn the faucet on and be good to go.”

Zuko sighed. Katara was right, but he was still hesitant to leave her.

“If something happens, there’s a bell to summon the staff. Just ring that, or call, and I’ll come.”

“Zuko, _go_. We’ll be fine. I don’t think she’s about to launch into attack any time soon, do you?”

Katara had a point. Azula was sobbing wordlessly, much like she had been in the courtyard, but without the plumes of fire. Seeing her like that reminded Zuko sharply that she was only fourteen — almost a child, still. When was the last time any of them had been seen as such?

It didn’t take much to collect the household staff in the main hall of the palace. There were much fewer than them than there should’ve been, and still Zuko stood awkwardly before them. What was he supposed to do with his hands? It had been a long time since he’d tried ordering such a group, and he was starkly aware that he was still in his singed, dirty battle clothes. How had he done this for so long, without thinking twice?

The maids, a few young and relatively untrained guards, and the kitchen staff eyed him warily, glancing away quickly whenever his gaze met one of theirs. Zuko didn’t see any of the guards he’d come to know over the years of them serving the Royal Household; he had a feeling they’d been conscripted into the fighting. Nowhere to be seen were the Imperial Firebenders. The higher attendants weren’t present either, no doubt sheltered in their own households or somehow involved in one of the offenses Ozai had launched.

He took a shuddering breath to steady himself and squared his shoulders. “Before Azula was crowned by the Fire Sages as Fire Lord, I challenged her to an Agni Kai. She effectively forfeited during the duel when she struck at someone outside the grounds.”

One of the more dour looking guards was bold enough to gesture at Zuko’s burned chest. For what had to be the billionth time, Zuko ached with anger for having his honor so visibly stripped those years ago. If his face had been normal, no one would’ve dared speak against him. If he had been like Azula, or Ozai — but he didn’t want to be like them, did he?

“But you were burned?” the young guard asked.

 _I’m not my father_ , Zuko reminded himself. His voice was still hard when he spoke. “ _After_ she decided to attack someone else in the middle of the Agni Kai. I intercepted the hit — intentionally, even — that’s true. But she forfeited first.”

The women were, for the most part, averting their eyes. This wasn’t a petty child’s argument, this was what decided their rulership. It made sense if there were questions, even if Zuko didn’t want to answer them. Zuko didn’t know how to feel about that, but at least no one else spoke up. After a moment, he continued speaking.

“Ozai is facing the Avatar in Wulong Forest; I am confident the Avatar will be triumphant in this duel. Until then, though, we are all waiting for news. Those of you who don’t wish to serve this household under me can tender their resignations; I won’t punish you. I know serving the royal family under Ozai and Azula has been… tenuous.”

No one immediately said anything, but a few of the maids looked up. There was obvious uncertainty rolling off the group of staff; they were likely wondering if Zuko was laying some kind of trap. The thing was, they weren’t at all wrong to think that. Zuko bit back a sigh.

“For the time being, Azula is being held in one of the bedrooms on the west corridor. I don’t wish to imprison her, though her mental state is obviously not what it should be. I tell you all this in confidence, and not to undermine her.” Zuko stared hard at each of the guards, who shuffled uncomfortably.

“It is very likely she will challenge me once more for the throne, though that goes against tradition. It is equally likely that she may make an attempt on my life. If she is willing to go that far, she is willing to harm or kill any of you. For this reason, it is imperative that you all are aware of the situation and have your wits about you, should you go into that part of the palace. I want a guard at her door at all times. I also need someone to go to the palace jail and bring up a waist chain for her.”

Zuko was running out of steam; just having to conceptualize the situation enough to explain it was hurting his head. He was saved from saying anything else by the cry of a hawk. A Fire Nation messenger hawk was sweeping through the hall, having come in through one of the verandas. Instinctively, Zuko held out his arm. The hawk came to him swiftly, and before he could take the message from the pack it carried, the hawk stretched out its neck to nip affectionately at his ear. With a shock of recognition, Zuko realized he knew this messenger hawk: it was Hawky, Sokka’s pet.

His hands were trembling, making it hard to unroll the message. Where had Sokka even found materials to write? Or had someone else intercepted the hawk? _Oh, Agni,_ he thought, _please let this be from Sokka. Please let him be okay. Please let them all be okay_. The eyes of the household were on him, too. As much as Zuko wanted to dismiss them, it was likely whatever was in the message would affect them, too.

When he saw the first scratches of Sokka’s terrible handwriting and knew it to be truly from him, Zuko’s knees almost gave way.

_Zuko- took down air fleet. Suki and Toph ok. leg likely broken. wish you could have seen what Aang did. coming for you soon. -Sokka_

That was all. Zuko wanted to tear his hair out. How could Sokka give him so little? Yes, relief had washed over him like cold water just reading that they were all okay. Still, that remark about Aang — what had happened? What had they seen from the crashing airships happening in the forest?

The household was still waiting expectantly, though in that painfully polite way that they’d been terrorized into being. Zuko shoved his shoulders back and tried to look like he was in control. He felt anything but.

“The Avatar will be returning to Caldera City imminently. I’ll need healers here to attend to his team. The Fire Nation air fleet has been defeated.”

There were a few gasps. Zuko tried to be sympathetic — there was no telling the casualty rate of the destroyed fleet, not yet, and most of the army had been funneled into them. It was likely that each of the staff had family members somehow involved with the army. That’s just how it was in the Fire Nation.

“You’re all dismissed. I need one of you to bring a fresh set of plain robes — cleaning robes or custodial robes are fine — to the room where Azula is being held.”

The staff moved in a wave, all dropping to bow in a single, practiced movement. Hawky, still on Zuko’s arm, gave him another little nibble and took off, probably to the Aviary. As soon as the staff had dissipated, whispering to each other and casting glances his way, Zuko all but ran back down the west corridor. He had to show Katara the message.

She opened the door at the first knock and pulled him inside. Azula was silent on the bed, but Zuko watched the rise and fall of her chest. She was ostensibly asleep.

“You didn’t knock her out again, did you?” he asked Katara, trying for a shred of brevity.

Katara scowled. “She cried herself out. Did you address the staff? They’re not going to try and kill us in the night, are they?”

“Not yet,” Zuko said. “But look, Hawky came in while I was speaking.”

“ _Hawky_?” Katara asked, and snatched the scrap of parchment Zuko retrieved from his pocket. He watched her eyes scan the note, reading it at least twice before she looked up.

“I’ve never healed broken bones before. I hope they don’t jostle him too much between there and here.”

“That’s all?”

Katara gave him a look. “What else am I supposed to say?”

“I don’t know, something about Aang?” Zuko didn’t even know why he was griping; it was something to do with exhaustion, surely.

Katara’s voice was cool and calm as a still lake, but she wouldn’t meet Zuko’s eyes. “You and I have both seen him do incredible things. I’ve always believed in Aang, but I can’t fight his battles for him. I can’t spend all night trying to in my mind. For now, we’ll just have to wait to hear what happened from his own mouth — but more likely, from Sokka’s. We can’t get them here any faster. All we can do is wait.”

 _All we can do is wait_. If there was anything Zuko especially couldn’t stand, it was being out of control. He squeezed his eyes shut. A moment later, he felt arms come around his waist. He sank his forehead down to rest on Katara’s shoulder, looping his own arms loosely around her. “That’s the hardest part,” he said.

“I know,” Katara said into his tunic, “but we don’t have a choice.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first installment of an Azula Redemption arc that has been in the works since the middle of the summer! I've mentioned it to many people, and I hope it doesn't disappoint!! Yes, I've taken a few liberties (hello Hawky), but I've worked hard to keep this as close to established canon as I can. 
> 
> The slowburn relationships mentioned above are ultimately going to be zukka and azuki. Even if you're unsure about those pairings, I'd love if you stayed around and read the story and let it speak for itself.
> 
> The first arc is beta'd and ready to go; I'll probably be posting once or twice a week until the first arc is complete, then take a little break before the next arc comes up.
> 
> You can find me on [tumblr](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/) where I'm more than happy to talk in depth about this passion project of mine :')


	2. Arc 1 Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first look at the lost time between the Agni Kai and Zuko's coronation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for brief descriptions of anxiety; emetophobia tw (very non-graphic)

Appa was still waiting outside the palace; it was Katara who decided to send him in search of Aang.

“It’s not like he can just airbend the whole gang over here from the Earth Kingdom,” Katara explained.

“Yeah, but do you think Appa’s… smart enough to find him?”

Katara gave him a withering glare. “You’re lucky to be injured, or I would’ve just elbowed you _so_ hard.”

Zuko put his hands up in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. I just don’t want to, you know, lose him, too.”

“We’re not losing anyone,” Katara said fiercely. “Appa, do you think you can find Aang? Can you go get him? It’ll be where there’s been obvious widespread fire, I bet. Somewhere close to water — an island.”

Appa leveled his massive head at her, eyeing her with an eye as big as her head. After a moment, he huffed loudly and raised his head back up.

“Alright, Appa,” Katara said, taking this as confirmation from the air bison. “Go get Aang. Bring him back to us. And everyone else, too. Ready, buddy? Yip yip!”

Without any more prompting, the air bison launched himself straight into the air. He flew so swiftly that it wasn’t long before he was out of sight.

In the night, another message arrived. This one was a little more eloquent, though it wasn’t quite enough to settle the unease Zuko had felt since his return to the palace. It was from Iroh.

_Nephew,_

_Ba Sing Se has been returned to the Earth Kingdom. At long last, I breached the inner wall, just as I knew I was destined to do. When the city is secure, I will return to Caldera City to be with you for your coronation._

_I love you._

_Iroh_

Zuko’s limbs were still buzzing with anxiety. He needed more than just a message of affirmation to know he wasn’t going to completely ruin his rule before it began. He felt like a _child_ — what kind of Fire Lord did that mean he was going to be, if he was so on edge without his uncle? At least he had Katara. 

She had been able to get a length of cloth bandages from someone in the palace and had bound Zuko’s burned chest. Already, there was seepage from the wound staining them. Zuko didn’t want to think about what it would be like if she hadn’t been there to heal him right away. 

Azula was quiet. She refused the meal brought to her by one of the kitchen staff; it sat cold on the bedside table. They had swapped the length of chain binding her wrists for more sensible manacles taken from the small jail located in the basement of the palace. It was a small kindness, one Azula probably didn’t deserve. 

There was the matter of Azula’s burns to be addressed, but Azula steadfastly refused to acknowledge them or Katara’s ability to heal them. In the interim, they were blistering massively, creating the appearance of turtle crab claws. Azula wouldn’t even permit the palace healer to be called. Katara had also tried to convince Azula to be helpful in changing out of her dirty coronation garments and into the clean, plain robes the staff had brought, but Azula only threatened to blast her back to the South Pole. It was resolved to wait until there were more people to help.

Zuko directed Katara to his own chambers for the night to bathe and sleep, saying that he would stay with Azula for the night. Katara had argued with him for that, and she made good points, but ultimately she relented. Zuko, having never been the favorite child, didn’t have chambers too far away from the undesirable west corridor. Katara wouldn’t be far if he needed her. 

Unable to sleep after reading Iroh’s letter all the way through nearly five times (and letting it echo around his mind: _I love you, I love you, I love you_ ), Zuko stepped outside Azula’s room. As he had requested, there was a guard posted there.

“Can I ask you a question?” Zuko asked the guard without preamble.

The guard, young and bleary-eyed, looked up at Zuko warily. He wasn’t in a position to refuse, one way or another.

“Where is everyone?”

The guard frowned. “Sir, hadn’t you heard? Fi… Pri… she’s still ‘Princess’ isn’t she?” Zuko nodded, and the guard continued, “Princess Azula spent the last day banishing people from the Fire Nation. First it was the Dai Li, then it was the Imperial Benders — she even banished Ladies Li and Lo.”

“Her mentors?” Azula truly hadn’t been in her right mind at all.

“I heard she ordered them to perform an Agni Kai against one another.” The guard said, shifting on his feet.

Zuko frowned. “Lo and Li aren’t benders, though,”

The guard only shrugged. “That’s just what I heard, sir. Most of the household staff were dismissed, too — the rest of the guard was ordered to join up with the army for the air strike.”

That was about what he had figured, at least, when he found himself looking at a group of young strangers the night before. Unfortunately, there was no telling how many of them would be coming home. 

Appa was back when Zuko woke up. 

He was disoriented, and for a moment didn’t know where he was. It came to him gradually, and then all at once after he tried to sit up and was met with a blast of hard-to-pinpoint pain, shocking his mind into clarity. He was in one of the spare bedrooms, having decided to simply crash in one instead of disturbing Katara, who was in his own room. The pain he was feeling was from the half-healed lightning blast Azula had given him. Azula was technically his prisoner — and he was technically Fire Lord.

Bile rose in Zuko’s throat, and he staggered through the pain to make it to the chamber pot in the back of the room to vomit. The gravity of everything threatened to overwhelm him. Part of his mind was saying _too much, too much, too much_!

But then he registered the voices. Was that Aang? Laughing?

The bedroom Zuko had stayed in for the night was one with a window, albeit a small one. It looked out into the courtyard where he’d fought Azula. There in the scorched dirt was Appa, and around his tree-trunk legs were members of Team Avatar. Katara was already with them, Momo perched on her shoulder.

Zuko wiped his mouth on the torn, burned yi he still wore from the night before, then peeled the garment off as an afterthought, leaving on only his singed trousers. Pain radiated from the throbbing burn, making each stretch of his left arm and torso a struggle. There really was no hesitating, though.

Zuko burst through the bedroom door and went flying down the corridor, navigating the warren of hallways out to the courtyard.

“Aang!” he called.

Aang looked up right away from whatever conversation he was having with Suki and Katara, and his face split into a wide grin.

“Zuko!”

Aang bounded across the distance between them, moving like he was barely tethered to the earth. The action was so familiar — so normal — that it ached. Zuko braced himself for impact a moment before Aang launched himself at him. They embraced, each clinging to the other for a long minute. Zuko held Aang tight even though it made his chest hurt fiercely. He was almost overwhelmed with relief. Aang was _alive_ , he was there, he’d succeeded against all the odds.

“I can’t believe you’re alive,” Zuko said to Aang.

Aang huffed a little laugh, drawing back to look Zuko in the face. “It was incredible. I can’t believe I’m alive, either.”

“How…?”

Aang turned to gesture to the lightning scar in the middle of his back. Over his shoulder, he said, “When Azula tried to kill me in Ba Sing Se, she blocked my seventh chakra. I couldn’t access the Avatar State. When I was fighting Ozai, I thought I was done for. But he threw me against a rock formation, and somehow it hit me in the right place to unblock my chakra. I was able to go into the Avatar State — and Zuko, I mastered it!”

“You mastered the Avatar State?” Zuko repeated numbly.

Aang’s smile was blinding, almost enough to distract from his tired eyes. “I did it!”

That was enough to haul Aang in for another hug. Zuko had never been a very touchy person before, but he didn’t know what to do with the relief he felt. Aang was alive, and he’d defeated Ozai. He’d — oh. Ozai.

“Aang,” Zuko said, withdrawing, “what, um… What happened with my father?”

Aang’s expression immediately sobered. “I took away his bending.”

 _He what?_ “You _what_?”

Katara had wandered over, and she looped an arm loosely around Aang’s waist. Momo climbed from Katara's shoulder to Aang's, blinking his globular eyes at Zuko. There was pride all but radiating off of Katara. “Aang took his bending away.”

“But how?”

Suki had come over, too. She wasn’t flanked by either Sokka or Toph, whose absences filled Zuko with dread. Suki didn’t look like she was grieving, though, and in fact had a look of pride on her face — though nothing to rival Katara’s.

“It was incredible,” Suki said, “there was this flash of light, and another, and the sky was all red and blue. For a moment, it was like the red was going to take over the blue, and then it was all blue!”

“You have to know that that made absolutely no sense,” Zuko told her, trying not to sound cross.

Aang took a deep breath and straightened his back. “I was taught energybending by a Lion Turtle. That’s where I was — Katara said you were all looking for me. I’m sorry I disappeared. But the Lion Turtle taught me how to energybend, and I consulted with my past lives on what to do. I didn’t feel right about killing Ozai.”

The last part was added almost shyly, as if he anticipated blowback from Zuko. And Zuko certainly had questions — he didn’t think Ozai deserved to live, not after all he’d done. But to live without bending… that would be agony for Ozai, a slow torture ‘til death.

“So you… took his bending away.”

Aang nodded. “He’s here, actually.”

Zuko bristled. It was pure, visceral fear that shot up from the base of his spine. “He’s _here_?”

“In the palace jail,” Katara clarified, her tone soothing. “Arrangements to a high-security secluded location haven’t been made yet. He’s pretty much harmless at the moment. Can barely stand on his own — serves him right, that shitstain.”

Zuko raised his eyebrow at the glimpse of Katara’s more colorful vocabulary, but he didn’t correct her. He’d lived with sailors for three years and knew far more words to call Ozai, anyway.

“So is there a plan?”

Suki glanced at Katara and then to Zuko. “We were letting you sleep, but you probably need to review the prison releases. My warriors, you know.”

“Right,” Zuko said. “And — where are Toph and Sokka?”

“I couldn’t heal Sokka’s leg all the way,” Katara explained. “Toph won’t leave his side — they have a crazy story from taking down the air fleet which Suki can tell you, I’m sure — but he’s being seen by the palace medic.”

“Thanks,” Zuko turned to go charging through the palace, but Katara caught his arm.

“Zuko, aren’t you forgetting something?”

Zuko paused, and then looked down at his chest, bare except for the bandages and the bruises snaking out from under them. “Uh… a shirt? Sokka won’t mind, and Toph’s blind, anyway.”

Katara rolled her eyes, and Aang snickered. “No, actually, I meant the fact that we’re holding your sister prisoner.”

That was an immediately sobering reminder. Zuko scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing his fingers into the tight skin around his left eye. “I hadn’t forgotten her.”

“I was thinking…” when Katara trailed off, Zuko opened his eyes. She was looking over her shoulder at Suki, who shrugged. Katara wrinkled her nose and turned back to Zuko. “I was thinking we might go in and make Azula take a bath, and I’ll heal those burns she has.”

Zuko blinked, the words not immediately making sense. “You… you would do that for her? After everything?”

Katara grimaced. “I’m not exactly thrilled at the prospect, especially because she’s going to try to kill us, probably, but it’ll be a mess if those burns get infected. And there’s no point in us to keep her in a bedroom instead of the jail with her still in her nasty fighting clothes.”

“And I’ll help,” Suki interjected. “I’m pretty good at subduing people, you know?”

Zuko’s mind flashed to the Boiling Rock, and watching Suki take out guard after guard. Sure, they weren’t prodigious fire benders like Azula, but still, she had a point.

Aang leaned around Katara. “It would probably be the best thing to do, especially if you’re still on the fence about what’s going to happen with her.”

Ugh, of _course_ he’d say that. Aang was always all for playing to people’s softer sides, even while highlighting the greater problem at hand. 

“Do you… do you guys think I have a chance to go see Sokka first?”

Suki smirked and Katara rolled her eyes again. “Probably, if you two don’t spend the next several hours talking. I know how you two work!”

“Bathe and grab a shirt before you meet us back at Azula’s room.” Suki added.

“You think I should be there?” Zuko asked.

“Someone’s going to have to tell her about Ozai,” Aang cut in. Over his head, Zuko met Katara’s eyes.

“We, uh… we kinda already told her that he’s dead.”

“So it should go fine!” Aang chirped, rocking on the balls of his feet. “He’s not dead, that should cheer her up!”

Zuko wanted to snap at him. Azula was surely going to freak out about Ozai having his bending taken away. Like, who even knew that was possible? In their family, bending was _everything._ Ozai had even been fond of reminding Zuko that he’d almost been dispatched as an infant because Ozai thought he was a non-bender. 

“Aang…” Katara started around a sigh.

Suki made a sort of shooing motion at Zuko that any other Fire Lord would’ve blasted her for. “Go get him, we’ll be here.”

Sanhu, the longtime palace healer, had somehow survived Azula’s banishment spree. He was standing outside the infirmary, his hands clasped behind his back, and he bowed deeply when Zuko approached.

“Is he alright?” Zuko asked, trying to squash the weird feeling in his stomach he got anytime someone bowed to him in obvious deference.

“The young Water Tribe man? His leg was partially healed by the water bender, but it was a nasty break. The bone is still weak, so I wrapped it in linens to keep it stable. There is a blind Earth Kingdom girl with him; she refused to leave him and wouldn’t let me examine her, but I assume she is fine.”

“Thank you.” Zuko said, and Sanhu bowed again. His hair was thinning in the back; Zuko had never noticed before. This man was the same one who had treated his burned face those years before, the one who told Zuko he may never see out of that eye again. He’d been good to Zuko in those days between the Agni Kai and the banishment. He hadn’t tried to stop the Agni Kai, though. No one had.

Inside the infirmary, Sokka was laid on a red-cushioned sofa, his leg propped up on pillows. Toph perched on the back of the sofa, almost certainly because it was absolutely where she wasn’t supposed to be. She had her legs planted around Sokka’s in a protective way, as if to keep him place. When Sokka spotted Zuko, his face brightened. 

“Hey Jerkbender! Or should I say, _Your Royal Flaminess_?”

Zuko tried to frown, but his smile wouldn’t budge. “You really shouldn’t. Hey, buddy, hey Toph.”

Toph nimbly clambered down from the sofa, careful not to jostle Sokka’s bandaged leg, and launched herself at Zuko. For such a short girl she was quite solid, nearly knocking Zuko off his feet. 

“Is it true that you kicked your sister’s ass?”

Zuko was glad Toph couldn’t see his pink cheeks. “Uh, yeah. Is it true that you guys took down the air fleet?”

“With Suki.” Sokka added, flashing a bright grin.

“With Suki, of course.” Zuko amended. Toph still had her arms around his waist, so he stood somewhat awkwardly.

“Sokka saved my life,” Toph said into Zuko’s hastily located top.

Zuko met Sokka’s eyes. He was still smiling, but now he looked a little awkward, himself, like he wasn’t sure he should own up or brush the statement off. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Toph answered, lacking the bravado she usually pumped into everything she did. “His leg had just broken, and he never even let me slip. He held my arm when I fell over the edge of the airship.”

“You fell over the _edge_?” Zuko’s heart jumped in his chest. The idea of losing Sokka and Toph, either one of them or both, was too much to even think of. Just talking about it made his skin crawl.

Toph gave him an extra squeeze. “Don’t freak out, Sparky, we’re here, after all. Sokka didn’t let me fall.”

“I’d never let you fall,” Sokka said softly — but he was looking at Zuko. 

Zuko, taken off guard, blinked hard — and Sokka was looking at _Toph_ ; he’d always been looking at Toph. Why would he be looking at Zuko, anyway? Zuko stifled a sigh and patted Toph’s sturdy shoulders. All of their emotions were running high, having survived such a close brush with death. That’s all it was.

“So, you pulled Toph up from what would’ve been sure death — broken leg and all — and then continued to save the day?” Zuko asked Sokka. Toph finally let go of Zuko to pad over to the sofa Sokka was on and climb back onto her perch over him. She leaned back against the wall behind her, looking less like she was protecting Sokka and more like she was a queen on her throne.

Sokka perked up again, always ready to jump at a chance to tell a story. “You’ll never guess what happened next…”

Zuko allowed himself the smallest of smiles and sat on the floor to listen.

An advisor Zuko vaguely recognized met him outside the infirmary. 

“Prince Zuko,” he said, bowing deeply.

“Yes?” Zuko asked warily. He kept walking after a moment, knowing the advisor would follow him.

“The Fire Sages would like to commence with the coronation as soon as possible.”

That made sense. The Fire Sages were notorious for wanting things done on their own time; never mind that the Hundred Year War had just come to a crashing end, they wanted a monarch on the throne. “Did they have a date in mind?”

Out of the corner of his eye, Zuko could see the advisor bowing apologetically. He tried to brace himself accordingly. “Tomorrow, sir.”

For a heartbeat Zuko’s whole body tensed, but it made his burned chest flare in pain. “I don’t want to be crowned without my uncle here.”

The advisor was still quailing in his peripheral. “Yes sir, I — not to assume, of course, but — I anticipated as much and have already talked to the Fire Sages about this. They initially wanted the coronation to happen this evening, but I was able to talk them into tomorrow.”

“Has there been any word from the Earth Kingdom?”

“Yes sir, there was word that a ship was launched this morning from a port near Pouhai and headed this direction, but I am unsure at this time if it carries General Iroh.”

Zuko looked over his shoulder. The advisor was just waiting for him to blow up, he was sure of it, so Zuko forced himself to keep his voice even. “Can you find out?”

“Of course, sir,” the advisor bowed again. “We will send hawks to General Shinu immediately.”

“Thank you.” Zuko said, unsure of what else to say.

The advisor peeked up at him from his bow, apparently surprised. _Right_ , Zuko thought, _I doubt my father or sister were much for thanking advisors_. “That’s all, sir.”

“Then you can be dismissed,” Zuko told him, feeling painfully awkward. Was that the right wording? Agni, it was like he hadn’t grown up in the palace at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this chapter is a little short, but thank you for reading! There's more action from here on out, I just had to get everyone in one place 😌
> 
> Beta'd as always by [Olly](https://hyasinthum.tumblr.com/)!


	3. Arc 1 Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko faces Azula and deals with his first order of business as Fire Lord-apparent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta by [Olly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum)

Katara wasn’t in Zuko’s chambers, so he rushed through taking a bath in his private bathroom. Traveling with the Avatar had been a fantastic experience, but oh how he’d missed the comforts of his volcanic obsidian bathtub. There were definitely bonuses to being a fire bender in situations like this — Zuko could easily bend the heat in the water to keep it hot. He didn’t make the bath as hot as he normally would have, though, out of consideration for the half-healed burn on his chest. Katara would have to rewrap it when he met up with her and Suki; there was no way he could do anything on par with what she could.

When he was confident that he no longer smelled like a campfire, as Toph had been nice enough to tell him he did, Zuko hauled himself out of the bath and eased into a fresh set of clothes. It was difficult to pull the sleeves of his tunic on with the burn and its trauma limiting his mobility, but Zuko treated it as a kind of penance. He’d never quite minded being injured; it was usually something he could use to meditate on his actions with. This was no different.

Suki and Katara were outside Azula’s room in the west corridor when Zuko came up. Suki had a tray of soaps and oils balanced between her hip and one forearm. Seeing the girls with the guest rooms on either side of the hall had Zuko realizing that he hadn’t been a very good host.

“Suki, I should’ve said this earlier, but you can pick out any room you want. Even Ozai’s, for all I care.”

Suki wrinkled her nose. “No thanks, but not to worry. The head of staff, I think her name is Kachi? She got bedrooms sorted for all of us.”

Zuko breathed a sigh of relief. At least someone on the staff was on his side. Kachi... he was certain that was the maid he had recognized earlier. Of course, she wasn’t simply a maid, she was much higher in standing. He would have to remember that.

“And Aang?”

“He’s meeting with the Fire Sages,” Katara told him. She seemed much lighter now that their friends were in the capital city and she knew they were safe. He couldn’t blame her one bit.

“Oh, the Sages… they’re on my ass about the coronation.”

“Yeah?” Suki responded.

“If they had their way, it would be happening at sundown. They probably wanted me crowned at sunrise, actually. Or noon — any apex of the sun, really, but post haste. I’m trying to hold off until Uncle gets here.”

“Iroh’s coming?” Katara asked. “I wonder if any of the other White Lotus members are coming. I haven’t had a chance to really talk to Master Pakku since he just decided to throw that water bomb on us that he’s engaged to Gran-Gran.”

“Not that I wouldn’t love to talk about your grandmother’s love life,” Zuko said, “but maybe we should attend to… matters. I don’t know how much time I have before another advisor hunts me down.”

Suki shrugged. “You’re right. Katara, do you have your water?”

Katara uncapped the flask at her waist and pulled out a blob of water, holding it at the ready between her palms. “Do you think she’s going to fireblast the door as soon as we open it?”

Zuko frowned. “I don’t know if she’ll be able to with the restraints we have on her, but she might try.”

“Well, it’s now or never.”

“Right. Uh, Suki, why don’t you count down?”

Suki rolled her eyes instead and unlocked the door.

By some luck, they weren’t greeted by an inferno as they filed into the stark bedroom. Azula was sitting cross-legged on the bed, still looking incredibly disheveled but at least alert. It was amazing how unbothered she looked, as if she didn’t have hands more burn blister than skin resting on her thighs.

“I was wondering how long you were going to stand outside my door gossiping.”

Was Azula’s voice always going to make Zuko’s spine crawl? And it wasn’t even her fault, not entirely. For so long, he’d conflated her with Ozai. After all, Ozai had used her as a puppet.

Katara scooped up the plain clothes that had been brought to Azula’s room the night before in one hand, still ready to bend with the other. “We could gossip for longer, but right now we have work to do.”

Azula eyed the black cloth warily, but then her gaze found Suki, and she deflected. “Oh, you brought in an Earth Kingdom _heathen_ for back up, I see.”

Suki didn’t even flinch. She shouldered past Katara and stood right where Azula could get a good look at her. She must have decided that if Azula was going to bend at them, she would have already. “Yep, just one of the _greatest_ warriors the Earth Kingdom has to offer. I’m Suki — we didn’t get acquainted properly, you know, when you failed to stop me from breaking out of your _prized prison_.”

Zuko bit the inside of his cheek to keep a startled laugh from bursting past his lips. Suki was bold, brawny, and she could back her words up — no wonder Sokka was so smitten. Azula narrowed her eyes.

“Zuzu, what are _you_ doing in here?”

Zuko crossed his arms over his chest. His burn protested dully. “You’re taking a bath. And Katara has graciously offered to heal your burns, so you’re going to let her.”

Azula scrambled back a little on the bed, mostly in a show of disgust. Her manacled hands clinked. “I’m not letting that Water Tribe peasant touch me!”

Katara rolled her eyes. She took a step forward, then another, until she was so close to the bed that Zuko’s heart was in his throat. Katara did the unthinkable and returned the water blob in her hand to the flask at her hip. Her actions screamed, _I’m not afraid of you_.

“You know,” Katara said, “in the Southern Water Tribe, my dad is actually the highest chief, elected by the chiefs of the other villages to represent all of us. By the reasoning of the rest of the nations, that makes me a kind of princess. So you and I, Azula, aren’t too different.”

Azula’s face screwed up. “That’s not true.”

Katara only shrugged. She knew better than to try and argue. She turned and collected the tray of toiletries from Suki and then went ahead and walked back behind the screen in the back of the room, and they all heard the tap of the bathtub turn on. 

“You’re not _actually_ going to make me bathe,” Azula started, glaring at Zuko.

Zuko stared impassively back at her. “Azula, you‘re a _mess_. You have to bathe. We’re keeping you out of the jail as a courtesy, but if you want to be denied the comforts I’m trying to offer you…”

Azula straightened. “No, no,” she backtracked, “that’s _not_ what I said.”

Suki scoffed. “Alright, Princess, let’s get you over there.”

Zuko walked around to stand with his back to the privacy screen, ready to intervene if need be. Suki took Azula’s arm carefully, as if she thought Azula’s skin would be burning hot to the touch. When it wasn’t, Zuko watched her grip tighten as she pulled Azula to her feet. To his immense surprise, Azula wasn’t fighting her.

“I guess it won’t be so bad to get clean,” Azula announced to the room at large. _Yeah, no fucking joke_ , Zuko wanted to say, because he’d been spending too much time with Sokka and Toph.

“Obviously we’re not just going to strip you against your will,” Suki clarified.

“I’m a _prisoner_.” Azula said dully, like they may have forgotten the fact. “I’m at your mercy.”

Katara made quite the face. “You may be a prisoner, but we’re not _monsters_. You’re entitled to your own privacy.”

Azula threw her shoulders back and shook her hair so it fell down her back. “Well lucky for you, I’m quite used to being waited on by attendants.”

While that wasn’t the point Suki and Katara had been making, Zuko was grateful they had made that clear to his sister. They weren’t keeping her to torture her or, Agni forbid, exploit her — she was simply a danger, not only to others but to herself. Until that could be somehow rectified, this was where they were at.

Suki brought Azula back behind the screen, and Zuko kept his curiosity in check so as not to invade her privacy. It wasn’t like he wanted to see Azula in the bath ( _ugh_ ), he just wanted to be ready in case there was some sort of issue. 

“Let me heal you before you get in the water, otherwise the bath will sting,” Katara said. 

Azula made a noncommittal noise, but a moment later Zuko heard the sharp clink of her restraints as she flinched away. He was willing to bet that it was the blue glow of Katara’s healing power that surprised his sister. After all, it was eerily similar in hue to the fire Azula wielded.

After a long minute, Katara said, “There. All done. Looks like there’s really minimal scarring, which I’m sure you’re happy about. Your hands will be less pink with time; they’re already starting to heal on their own. And the little ember spots on your face just look like freckles.”

“ _Ugh_ ,” was all Azula said to that. Thankfully, none of them had been deluded enough to think any kind of thanks would be in store.

“You know,” Suki said thoughtfully, “Avatar Kyoshi was known to have quite prominent freckles.”

“How fantastic,” Azula said flatly, “I look like a theatre-performing giantess now.”

The restraints that had been procured from the palace jail the night before were done specifically so that Azula couldn’t raise her hands and throw fire. Her wrists were attached on each side to a chain around her waist. She had a little range of movement, but couldn’t raise her hands or bring them together. It wasn’t a perfect set up, but it worked.

The chains couldn’t stay in place for Azula to be undressed and bathed, though. This was the riskiest part of the whole situation. 

“I’m going to hold your hands in mine,” Suki announced to Azula, “so we can get you out of these nasty clothes.”

“How do you know I won’t burn your hands?” Azula asked, not sounding malicious: rather, simply curious.

Suki shrugged. “And risk burning your fresh new skin? I don’t. But you’ve gotta know that I’ll beat the shit out of you if you do.”

That seemed to be the right answer, because Azula was pliant and quiet after that.

Zuko listened intently as Suki and Katara undid the sashes and buckles of Azula’s clothes, and the soft clunks as articles hit the ground. 

“Here, let me help you,” Katara said, quickly followed by Azula snapping, “Don’t touch me!” 

There was an immediate shuffle, and Zuko brought a ball of fire into his palm in case he had to whirl around and incapacitate his sister. But no one shouted, and he didn’t see the blue glow of Azula’s intensely hot flames, and he told himself to relax. 

In fact, Azula murmured, “Not _you_ , you can help.”

Who’d have thought she’d take so easily to Suki?

Zuko heard the water shift and knew Azula was getting into the tub. He decided to give it a few minutes before he dropped the bombshell about their dad. 

“Can I get your hair wet?” Katara asked.

“I _guess,_ ” Azula said, the sneer evident in her voice.

“Oh, wow, that’s a lot of… is that soot or dirt?” Suki asked. 

The water made a noise, which Zuko interpreted as Azula shrugging. “Both?”

“We’re gonna have to rinse you off and refill the tub… oh, this is _gross_ , Azula, you’re _filthy_.” Katara said.

“Hey!” Azula snapped. 

Zuko bit down on a bewildered laugh. He was certain no one had ever talked to Azula like that, not even Mai or Ty Lee. It was no doubt making her head spin.

The tub drained, and the faucet came back on. The silence between the four of them settled into a more or less comfortable lull, and Zuko felt bad that he had to break it.

“So,” he started, “our father is back.”

“He’s _what_?” Azula squawked, no doubt lurching forward like she was going to jump out of the tub. Zuko heard Suki and Katara push her back down. “What do you _mean_ , he’s back? If he’s back, then why am I still — why am — _oh_.”

“Yeah.”

“So when’s the funeral?” Azula asked in a flat, quiet voice.

Zuko took a deep breath. “Not for a while, I guess.”

“And why the hell not?” Azula thundered. “You can’t just deny him a funeral!”

“He’s not getting a funeral because he’s not dead!” Zuko snapped, resisting the urge to look over his shoulder to look his sister in the eye.

“But if he’s alive, then why hasn’t he come for me?” Azula cried, sounding somewhat hysterical. Someone, either Suki or Katara, made a soft shushing noise. It did little to soothe Azula, who had begun to breathe rapidly and audibly.

Zuko gritted his teeth. “He’s a prisoner.”

“Surely you can’t think any prison would keep him,” Azula said, her voice high and peaky. “The number of supporters he has — and his power!”

“He doesn’t _have_ any power,” Zuko said. “Aang took his bending away.”

For a moment, it was very silent. Then, “Wh-what do you mean, took his bending away?” Azula sounded genuinely scared.

Zuko tried not to revel in that. “The Avatar used his power to take away our father’s ability to bend.”

“Completely?”

“Completely.” Zuko confirmed. 

It was silent again, save for the sound of the water as Katara used her bending to wash Azula. The soap bottles had been opened, and the air was scented like fire lilies and sea salt. Zuko was reminded vaguely of the perfume his mother used to wear when he was quite small. Suki hummed something quietly, just something to fill the relative silence. Finally, Azula asked the question Zuko had been wondering himself.

“Is he going to take away my bending, too?” She sounded terrified.

Katara, who usually had enough tact for all of them, said lowly, “He _might_ , if you don’t watch it.”

Azula shrieked, and Zuko felt a flicker of protectiveness come up in his chest. But since when had he ever felt like he needed to defend Azula? Usually _she_ was the one antagonizing _him_ , anyway. Still, he had never been able to shake the feeling he'd had since she was born, when Ursa had let him hold her for the first time. Ursa had told Zuko that it was his job from there on out to look out for his baby sister. Rapidly, Azula became the dominant sibling and constantly exploited every weakness Zuko possessed in order to gain favor with Ozai. It was all so clear in retrospect, the way their father had ruined their relationship. After all of that, though, Zuko always carried with him that feeling of holding his newborn sister for the first time. She was a war criminal in chains now; she was someone who had outright tried to murder him, but she was his baby sister.

In an even tone he said to her, “You’re not as dangerous as he was. And anyway, you were only ever being _used_ by him.”

“That’s not true,” Azula countered in a wavery voice, “he wasn’t _always_ the boss of me!”

“Azula,” Zuko sighed, “our father started honing you into a weapon when we were little kids. He’s been using you this whole time.”

“That’s not _true_!” Azula said again, more forcefully this time. 

Zuko leaned his head back against the screen. “Think about it, you know it’s true. And I just _know_ he hasn’t been very kind to you lately — I bet he’s started treating you just like he treated me.”

Azula sniffed. “He’s never treated me _just_ like the way he treated you.”

Zuko huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah, but that’s not exactly saying much, is it?”

He was aware, then, that Suki and Katara didn’t know the full extent of Ozai’s wrath or frequent disdain. Zuko had never told any of his new friends what had caused his scar. He knew Katara and Sokka had a great relationship with their father, so could they even understand Zuko’s point of view? Perhaps Toph would be able to, but her issue with her parents stemmed not from them mistreating her outright but their insistence on babying her.

“You know, when I was little, my mom died,” Katara said, apparently apropos of nothing.

“If you’re looking for sympathy, I have none,” Azula snapped.

“I’m _not_ ,” Katara snapped back. “I just — I see the same grief I felt then on your face now.”

“Take it back,” Azula said, though her voice lacked the usual ring of authority.

Suki hummed and then said, “You know, Katara might have a point. I bet you’re grieving, Azula.”

“You have no right to tell me how I feel!” Azula said shrilly.

“I’m not,” Suki said, “I’m just observing.”

“Well, I’ll have you know that _my_ mother is most likely dead, too.” Azula said. 

Her words made Zuko’s stomach twist. He’d always held out hope that their mother was alive. Ursa had left in the night, the night Azulon died and Ozai became Fire Lord. She was a taboo subject in the palace. Ozai liked to imply that she was dead, but it was never said with certainty.

“I didn’t know that.” Katara said softly, and that was true — Ursa was another subject Zuko didn’t like to touch on with anyone. He kept those memories locked down tight in his mind. He'd mentioned once to Katara, when they were in the Crystal Catacombs, that the war had taken his mother just as it had taken hers, but he hadn't had a chance to elaborate.

“She’s been gone since I was nine, and I don’t even _care_.”

Zuko’s hands tightened into fists at his sides so he didn’t accidentally bring a flame to life. How could his own sister be so flippant about their mother?

“I was eight,” Katara said, “how funny. We were almost the same age.”

“What do you mean, you don’t care?” Suki interjected. “Not even a little bit?”

“No,” Azula said, conviction clear in her voice. “She hated me.”

Zuko couldn’t hold his tongue any longer. “She didn’t _hate_ you, you just made everything difficult for her!”

“I was her _daughter_ and she thought I was a _monster_!” Azula yelled back. “It’s not my fault that Father liked me more than you, either, Zuzu!”

In his mind, Zuko was sure Katara was wringing her hands. “I’m _sure_ your mother didn’t think you were a monster, Azula.”

“You didn’t see the way she looked at me, _if_ she could even bring herself to do so,” Azula said, so soft that it was heartbreaking.

There was a shocked silence. Zuko didn’t even know how to respond to any of that. Ursa hadn’t thought Azula was a monster, certainly not. Sure, she wasn’t as affectionate with her, but Azula was always causing trouble. She was mean, even as a little kid. Saying so was on the tip of Zuko’s tongue, but Suki spoke first.

“I kinda know what you’re talking about.”

“No, you don’t.” Azula said immediately.

Suki hummed. “You’re right, I haven’t been in your exact situation. But I know what it’s like when everyone treats you like a freak. To be alienated. To feel like your only worth is your skill set. I’m sure it was awful, feeling like that so young.”

Azula was silent. Finally, very softly, she said, “Yeah. It sucked.”

“Well, let’s get you out of the bath. The water’s getting cold, huh?” Katara prompted.

Zuko frowned. It was interesting that Azula wasn’t bending the heat in the water to keep the bath comfortable. Sure, they were holding her prisoner, but she’d always been the entitled sort — and it wasn’t like Katara or Suki would jump her for something like that.

He listened as Azula was helped out of the bath, the chains attached to her wrists swinging and clinking against the chain around her waist. Katara and Suki helped her get dressed in silence, and Zuko stood as they all stepped out from behind the screen.

Azula looked much better, even with her hair damp and still down uncharacteristically around her shoulders. Katara had healed the small burns on her face and arms, and the spots they left were barely noticeable. Her hands, as Katara said they would be, were much pinker than the rest of her skin but no longer blistered and swollen. Really, Katara was an incredible healer.

It was odd to see Azula so plainly dressed in the simple black service robes that had been found for her. Even when they were very small, both she and Zuko were always outfitted in the finest textiles. There was something almost relaxed about Azula, though, like without her usual outfits she was standing without a weight on her shoulders. That was an odd concept, the idea that anything related to ‘royal duty’ might be burdensome to her, so Zuko banished it from his mind.

Suki and Katara frog-marched Azula over to the bed. Once she was sitting, they fastened her wrists back to her waist. And by the grace of the spirits, Azula didn’t fight them. She met Zuko’s gaze and raised an eyebrow, as if to ask if he was surprised. It was like she was a different person.

Zuko spoke without thinking. “What I said earlier about our father… I meant that. He _used_ you, you know? You didn’t deserve any of what he did to you. He used everyone around him — us included. We were all collateral. He was wrong for hurting us.”

Azula’s face was impassive. She didn’t even blink.

“And I didn’t know that your relationship with our mother was that bad. I… I’m sure she didn’t hate you. She just didn’t understand you.”

In the blink of an eye, Azula was twisting her hand around in the manacle and snagging the dagger tucked in Suki’s belt. It was only the chains binding her arms to her waist that kept her from actually launching it at Zuko. He took a step back. That was more like her.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Suki asked, prying her dagger out of Azula’s hand and tucking it back into her belt. “Come on, now.”

Azula flashed her a grin, but it didn’t reach her eyes — it was more a baring of teeth than anything. “I didn’t burn you, though, did I?”

Zuko left the room feeling like he’d lost years off his life. He wanted nothing more than to lie face down on the floor. Better yet, lie down in the garden he’d frequented as a child with his mother. What month was it? Maybe there were turtleducklings…

All too soon, though, someone was coming up and snagging his sleeve. This time, it was Aang.

“Flameo, Sifu Hotman!”

Zuko resisted the urge to press his fingers into his eyes. The day had already been so long, and Aang was incredibly chipper as always.

“I’ve been with the Fire Sages,” Aang continued.

“I heard.” Zuko started toward the garden — because why the hell not? Aang kept pace at his elbow. 

“They’re saying you’ll be crowned tomorrow.”

Zuko sighed. “That’s what they tell me.”

“You don’t want to be?” Aang asked.

Zuko bristled. “That’s not what I said.” In his mind, he heard Azula saying the same words just an hour earlier. How could they be so similar and so different at the same time? “I’m just… not looking forward to the coronation if Uncle isn’t here.”

“I’m sure he will be, Zuko!” Aang, ever the optimist, chirped. “Isn’t he headed here from the Earth Kingdom now?”

“I’m not sure. He might not be on that ship.”

“Yeah, but I’m sure he is!” Aang said. _Agni_ , didn’t he get tired bouncing around so much when he walked?

“Did the Fire Sages say anything else?” Zuko asked, pushing open the doors to the garden. It had been neglected in recent years, and right away he could see how overgrown it was. Still, the late summer warmth was welcome on his skin.

“They asked me if I can put in a good word with you. I guess things are still a little tense after, you know, the thing with Zhao.”

Zuko scoffed. “You mean when you channeled Roku and destroyed their temple?”

Aang made a face. “I mean when Zhao arrested all of them and wouldn’t let them rebuild.”

Zuko wound through the garden, knowing he should stop to appreciate all of it but intent on a singular destination. The turtleduck pond was nestled in the shade of a couple large trees, nearly hidden by the overgrown grass.

“I didn’t know Zhao arrested them, honestly. I got out of there pretty quick — I think Zhao would’ve been happy to kill me after he didn’t capture you.”

“Zhao’s _unhinged,_ ” Aang sighed. “I don’t think he’d ever listen to reason.”

Zuko, delighted to see that there were in fact two turtleducks on the pond, didn’t immediately process the question. He sat down heavily, nice robes be damned, and looked up at Aang. “Of course, that's not going to be a problem anymore... Spirits, he used to make me so upset. He made me feel like a child, which I guess I was — am — but he wouldn’t let me forget. At one point, I got so mad that I challenged him to an Agni Kai.”

Aang immediately looked wary. He sat down next to Zuko. “But that didn’t happen, right?”

Zuko barked a humorless laugh. “Do you think either Zhao or I would back down from a challenge like that?”

Aang made a face. “What happened?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Zuko shrugged, looking back to the turtleducks. “I won, but when I wouldn’t burn him — which is how most Agni Kais end, if not in death — he called me a coward.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t,” Aang said softly. “I don’t think that’s who you are.”

“I don’t know why he hated me so much. I don’t know what I did, you know, besides… besides being _this_ ,” Zuko said, gesturing to himself.

Aang nudged Zuko with his elbow. “ _We_ all think you’re pretty cool, though.”

Why didn’t that feel like enough? 

“In the North Pole…” Zuko’s mouth went dry, and he had to clear his throat and start again. “At the Invasion of the North, I confronted him about trying to have me killed, which he almost succeeded in. We were fighting when the moon reappeared in the sky.”

“Princess Yue,” Aang offered, and Zuko had to force himself to move past that statement. Sokka had told him once that his first girlfriend had turned into the moon, with Zuko taking it at the time as one of the nonsensical things Sokka sometimes spouted, but perhaps that was literally what had happened. Zuko couldn’t dwell on it or his mind would surely explode.

“Okay, sure. We were fighting, and then this… massive amorphous blob of water showed up. I’ve never seen a spirit like it before. I mean, it’s not like I’ve seen many spirits. It was destroying everything in its path, and it was coming right for us.”

One of the turtleducks, though it couldn’t have been one from Zuko’s childhood, came waddling out of the pond in search of crumbs. The corner of Zuko’s lips twitched. If he had been talking about something less traumatic, he might have been able to smile at it.

When Zuko glanced over at Aang, Aang gave him a small nod as if to tell him to keep going. Zuko scrubbed a hand over his face. "The spirit grabbed Zhao, and I couldn’t just let him die like that, so I held my hand out to him, tried to pull him free. Zhao looked me in the eye and pulled his arms against his chest so I couldn’t reach him.”

“He tried to murder you weeks before and you still tried to save his life,” Aang frowned. “And he’d rather die than be helped by you?”

Zuko looked at the ground. “I’m an honorless, exiled prince who went out of his way to be a nuisance to him. I guess I understand why he did that. He didn’t want to be in my debt. That would be as bad as being honorless, I guess; he’d be as low as me.”

Aang nudged Zuko’s knee with his own. “I guess, but you got one thing wrong. You’re not an honorless, exiled prince anymore. You’re the _Fire Lord_.”

Aang was so earnest, looking up at Zuko with his big grey eyes full of pride. Zuko let himself have a small smile, and didn’t even feel that guilty about it.

Zuko was still in the garden when he was approached by Ukano, who was trailed by a harried looking advisor.

Zuko had a complicated relationship with Ukano — namely because he was Mai’s father. Ukano had been a favorite of Ozai’s because of how submissive he was in the face of excess power; that is, he had been easy to manipulate. Because of this, he’d been made the governor of New Ozai, formerly Omashu, when the city was conquered.

Now, he was shaking the advisor off his sleeve and heading toward Zuko like a man on a mission. Zuko clambered to his feet immediately, getting into a defensive stance. He didn’t remember Ukano being a bender, but he didn’t want to be off guard if he decided to attack. To his surprise, though, Ukano dropped into an almost prostrate bow as soon as he was close to Zuko.

“Crown Prince Zuko,” he said with his forehead touching the grass, “I come to you with a matter of great importance.”

“Alright, Ukano,” Zuko said warily. “What is it?”

Slowly Ukano straightened, and Zuko saw with a roil of unease that the man’s eyes were red-ringed. “It’s Mai.”

Immediately, Zuko’s heart was in his throat. “What’s wrong with Mai?”

“Princess Azula had her imprisoned for treason. She’s been there for weeks now!”

Zuko frowned. “Do you know which prison? Surely not the Boiling Rock. Isn’t your brother-in-law warden there?”

Ukano shook his head. “I’ve been going through the registers of each prison. She’s not at the Boiling Rock.”

“If you don’t know where she is, what do you want me to do?”

Ukano dipped his head. “I’ve narrowed it down to the Capital City Prison.”

A headache was brewing behind Zuko’s left eye. “That wasn’t the first prison you checked?”

“I just thought—”

“Never mind. Of course I’ll have her released; send the paperwork to… to my office. And the register of the other people imprisoned by Azula, please.” Ugh, the fact that the official Fire Lord Office was his now had Zuko’s skin crawling. He’d never really been allowed inside, and associated the room exclusively with his father.

Ukano was nodding and bowing low again. “Thank you, Prince Zuko, Agni bless you.”

Zuko was flustered. “Of course, Ukano. Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

As Ukano turned to leave, Zuko gestured for the advisor to hang back. He recognized the man; he was… Li? _Linfu_ , his name was Linfu. When Ukano was back inside the palace, Zuko said, “Next time, can you make sure that I’m not accosted by a noble in my private garden? Unannounced?”

Linfu blanched, no doubt anticipating an explosive reaction like those favored by Ozai and Azula. “My sincerest apologies, sir. Ukano wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer. And there aren’t the usual palace guards employed. I did try to stop him—”

Zuko held up his hand for silence. “It’s already happened, so let’s not dwell. I’d just not like it to happen again.”

Linfu copied Ukano’s excessively low bow and left. Zuko turned to Aang, who had quietly watched the whole thing.

“What did you think of all that?”

Aang airbent himself to his feet. “I think those guys need to give you some space. I know just the person to keep advisors off your back for the afternoon — someone so _annoying_ even Ukano would give him some space.”

Zuko, who had an idea of who this person was, pressed down on a small smile. That didn’t sound bad at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of my favorite chapters, one that's always been a huge part of my planning process. And yes, I was a little self-indulgent -- the headcanons worked in about the SWT, the nod to Kyoshi, turtleducks... but I hope you enjoyed it, too! Any thoughts about who Zuko's going to get to accompany him for the rest of the day? 👀


	4. Arc 1 Part 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Exploring the Fire Nation Royal Palace

Sokka insisted he really didn’t need the crutch the palace healer gave him, but he’d use it anyway to make everyone happy. Zuko didn’t point out that he hadn’t asked.

They stood in front of the door of the office for a full minute before Sokka sighed and put his hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko, to his credit, didn’t flinch.

“Alright, buddy, are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“What, no fire nickname?” Zuko joked weakly.

Sokka gave him a Look that rivaled the ones Katara pulled. “Dude, you’re just avoiding the question. Seriously, what’s the deal with this place?”

With Sokka staring so earnestly at him, Zuko felt caught. He thought briefly about making something up, but settled on the truth. “I haven’t been in here since it was my father’s office. Even then, I really wasn’t allowed in.”

For all the jokes made at his expense, Sokka was actually quite bright, if not blunt. “Oh, bad memories, I see.”

Bad memories. That was putting it somewhat mildly, but Zuko wasn’t about to unpack his unsavory childhood right then and there. Instead, he nodded mutely. Sokka gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“It’s just a room! Whatever your memories are, they’re in the past — and Ozai is rotting in a prison cell. He’s not even a part of this narrative right now. It’s just me and you. Me and you.”

Somehow, that did make Zuko feel a little better. He nodded again, and the corners of his mouth twitched upwards in what he hoped Sokka could tell was the best attempt at a smile he could do right then. “Thank you.”

Sokka beamed, his bright eyes crinkling up in his cheeks. “Anytime, Hotman!”

Zuko’s cheeks mysteriously started to warm up, so he ducked his head and turned his attention to the heavy door. Unlike most of the rooms in the palace, which were accessed with intricate sliding panels, this was a heavy redwood door with iron fastenings. Zuko halfway expected it to be locked, but the door opened easily when he tried it. That, too, made a kind of sense — Ozai must’ve trusted that no one would dare invade his privacy.

The room was scented heavily of smoke and incense. Like the throne room, there was a bay where a screen of fire could be set. Without anyone in the room, it was empty and ashy. The walls were papered in crimson and hung with tapestries depicting scenes like the original Sozin’s Comet, early firebenders learning from the dragons, and the formidable might of the Fire Nation’s army. The sconces between the tapestries, which Zuko lit with a flick of his wrist, were gold.

At the back of the room was a desk ostensibly made of the same shining volcanic stone as the floor. It was completely bare. This wasn’t a surprise; Ozai was a notorious clean freak. Even as a young child, Zuko remembered being harshly chastised for leaving toys out. Even Azula hadn’t been immune to that particular qualm of Ozai’s. She had been quick to learn, though.

“You doing okay?” Sokka asked, leaning into Zuko’s arm for just a moment. The contact was grounding, pulling Zuko out of his memories.

“I’m okay,” Zuko confirmed, pressing back.

Sokka never could keep his hands to himself. He hobbled over to the desk and dropped into the throne-like chair behind it, going immediately to rifle through the drawers. Zuko watched on, slightly bemused. He wasn’t going to stop Sokka; there was no point. Whatever might be found in the desk, Zuko was comfortable sharing with him. Nonetheless, it still turned his stomach to watch Sokka interact with things that had been touched — tainted — by Ozai.

After a moment, Sokka sighed. “Ozai was pretty boring, huh? There’s not even anything interesting in here.”

Zuko huffed a little laugh. Of all things Sokka could say... “What kind of thing are you looking for?”

Sokka shrugged, making a face that spoke more than words. “I don’t know. Something… personal, I guess. There’s, like, nothing that says _‘this desk is Ozai’s’_. It’s all just… paperwork.”

Zuko ran a hand over his scar, rubbing the jagged edges where melted skin met smooth. “Yeah, I wouldn’t say he was really a family man. If you’re trying to find, I don’t know, portraits of me as a baby, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“You _do_ have baby pictures?” Sokka gasped, looking up with his blue eyes wide. Zuko chuckled properly at that.

“No, I just said I don’t know how to help you with that. I mean, I think there’s an old family portrait around somewhere. There’s a portrait gallery here, you know. I know there was at least one painting done of me and Azula when we were just learning how to bend… I don’t know if that made the move.”

“The move from where?” Sokka asked, using the crutch to haul himself out of the desk chair. He seemed to be on the hunt for some kind of hiding place where Ozai might’ve kept some of his personality.

Zuko raised his eyebrow. “You know I didn’t grow up _here_ , right? Not entirely.”

Sokka looked over his shoulder. “Really?”

“There’s a string of mansions just outside the palace wall where some high-born nobles and heads of state live. I grew up in a house there.”

“ _Wow_ , rich boy,” Sokka commented. He was running his hands over the tapestries, his back to Zuko. “You moved from a government mansion to a palace, that’s pretty swanky.”

“Sorry,” Zuko said immediately, his cheeks warming for an entirely different reason than they had earlier. Why was he always putting his foot in his mouth? “I don’t mean to come off like I’m bragging. Obviously, it wasn’t… obviously it wasn’t the best.”

Sokka spun around right away. “Oh, I’m not trying to guilt you! I just think it’s interesting, you know? I grew up working with my family for everything we had and for the benefit of the tribe, and you grew up in silk with a silver spoon in your mouth, but here we both are.”

The words settled around Zuko like a heavy drape. He somewhat resented the notion that his life had been plush when it certainly hadn’t been, but Sokka’s point was clear enough. _Here we both are_. Sokka was right. Against all the odds, they’d come together. Spirits, life was strange. If Iroh was there, he’d probably have some witty and heavy anecdote to bestow upon them. Iroh wasn’t there, though. It was just the two of them, slowly working through the office and chasing Zuko’s nightmares from the corners.

The advisor who had dealt with Ukano earlier, Linfu, came knocking at the door. He bowed deeply and wouldn’t look directly at Zuko, even when he passed over a thick roll of collated parchments.

“These are the sentence commuting forms for those that Princess Azula had imprisoned, as you requested,” Linfu said to a spot on Zuko’s tunic. “There are some prisoners of war included, on recommendation from Advisor Zhi.”

Zuko took the paperwork and thanked the advisor, dismissing him easier than he had before. With Sokka out of the desk chair, Zuko had no choice but to sit there. His skin crawled, sitting where his father sat up until recently. _I might have to get a new chair_ , he thought.

With Sokka more or less occupied, still looking for a secret passageway or whatever would strike his fancy, Zuko got to work with the paperwork. It was his first real task as Fire Lord, even though he hadn’t been crowned yet. Getting Mai — and Ty Lee, and it looked like about a dozen others — out of prison, where they’d been thrown by his mad sister.

Sokka got bored with the relative plainness of the office fairly quickly. Thankfully, the forms were fairly straightforward and had already been mostly filled out by Ukano. All Zuko had to do was double-check Ukano’s work and sign his name. Then, Zuko was looking over the desk at Sokka, who was looking right back. He fixed Zuko with an impossibly colored gaze, his eyes turned purplish by the red walls and firelight. 

“I think when you get properly moved into this office, you’re gonna have to make it way cooler. You need at least one sofa in here. And like, displays of swords and a big sabertooth moose head on the wall, or something.”

Zuko wrinkled his nose. “I don’t really want to have a dead animal in my office.”

Sokka shrugged. “Okay. Maybe I can send you a boomerang, then? You can display it right over your desk. That way you’ll, like, never forget me.”

He said it so casually, but he looked away when he did. Zuko’s heart was stuttering in his chest. “Do you really think I could ever forget you?”

Sokka turned back to him, a massive grin plastered on his face, his eyes scrunched closed from the might of it. “Nah, I’m probably too annoying. Hey, do you want to dodge your advisors some more? We can go find your baby portrait! I won’t be fooled by one of Ozai again.”

The change was so abrupt that Zuko almost felt unsteady, but he managed a tiny smile. “Yeah, why not?”

Toph ended up joining them for the walk through the portrait gallery. 

“You won’t be able to see anything, though,” Zuko had reminded her. 

She’d stomped on his foot for that. “Yeah, but I’ve got Snoozles here to describe them to me — and to tell me what you won’t.”

Well, Toph had a point there, so the three of them set off. The one guard posted in that part of the palace eyed them warily but said nothing. No advisors had come calling after Zuko between the office and collecting Toph from the courtyard where she was antagonising a different guard, so they were more or less in the clear.

“Where’s everyone else?” Zuko asked Toph while they padded through the black-tiled hall.

“Katara and Aang got asked by one of Sparky’s advisors to help send out notices to those who might want to attend the coronation. I think I’m technically supposed to be sending a message to my parents, but the advisor seemed to miss the part where I’m fucking blind.”

“I really don’t think you should use that kind of language,” Zuko sighed as Sokka asked, “And what about Suki?”

Toph elbowed Zuko with scarily precise aim and replied, “Suki’s hanging around Azula’s room. I don’t think she trusts the guards posted there. They’re so afraid of Azula, you know? If it comes to a fight, you can’t be terrified of your opponent. It’s like just handing them a win.”

She had a point. For someone so young, she usually did have sound judgement. Zuko brushed her lightly with the tips of his fingers to indicate that they were at the door to the portrait gallery and she stopped immediately.

“Say, Sparky,” Toph said, tilting her face toward him, “how _did_ your fight with Azula go?”

Zuko’s hands faltered on the door handle. In all honesty, he hadn’t processed all of their Agni Kai. He chalked some of that up to the pain from intercepting Azula’s lightning blast, making everything else hazy. A good aspect of the haze, though, was that it was simply already a painful memory. He never wanted to fight a family member like that again — though he was limited when it came to relatives.

At Zuko’s hesitation, Sokka reached out and put a hand on his shoulder. “Toph, maybe he doesn’t want to talk about it.”

Toph kept her face turned toward Zuko, her non-gaze as deeply unsettling to him as it had been when they first met. She was waiting for Zuko to say something himself, no doubt so she could gauge if he was telling the truth.

Zuko pulled the door open. “It was fine.”

Toph shook her head, silently calling him on the lie, and trailed Sokka into the dimly lit chamber.

Zuko held his hand out and flexed his fingers, bringing a globe of twisting flames into existence. Immediately across the entrance was a portrait of Sozin, his great-grandfather, done many times larger than life. The chamber to one side of Sozin’s portrait contained more ancient paintings and artifacts; to the other direction were the paintings of royal family members that Zuko mostly knew.

“Alright, Toph,” Sokka said, grabbing Zuko’s wrist and bringing the light closer to the painting of Sozin. “First up we’ve got a painting of a scary looking old dude. He’s, like, a hundred maybe? Old as dirt. But not old like Bumi. Bumi could probably kick his ass; this guy isn’t ripped at all.”

Zuko bit his lip to keep a peal of surprised laughter back. What Sokka was saying would be considered something like sacrilege if any other member of the Fire Nation was around to hear. Sozin was the conqueror, the father of the era as they all knew it. He had started the war, after all.

“It’s a portrait of Sozin,” Zuko told his friends, “who is my great-grandfather on my father’s side of the family. I don’t think he’s a hundred here, maybe in his eighties — you can tell the time period by the robes he’s wearing, and a bit by his angular facial hair, which is a style that has been in and out of fashion.”

“Wow,” Toph said sarcastically, “in prince school were you taught how to distinguish the monarchs and their subjects by the fashion?”

Zuko’s cheeks heated. In a small voice, he said, “Maybe.”

Sokka laughed, full bodied like he would when they were joking around at the Western Air Temple. He didn’t seem to be making fun of Zuko, though, because he pressed briefly against him and caught Zuko’s eye. Maybe it was just that it was hard to be embarrassed when Sokka was so amused.

“Um, moving on…” Zuko tried. He raised his hand with the flames aloft to cast a larger halo of light.

Sokka nodded. “Alright. Here we have… holy shit, is that a dragon?”

It was, indeed, a dragon. “That’s Sozin’s dragon. He’s the last Fire Lord to have had one; a long time ago, they were more common pets for the royal family. As you can see, this one was important enough to get its own portrait. Of course, Sozin’s the reason dragons are all but extinct now. He made hunting them into a social status thing during the last years of his reign.”

“Is anyone going to tell me what the hell a dragon _looks_ like?”

Sokka and Zuko chuckled over that, and took turns trying to accurately describe the blue, serpentine beast that curled across the canvas in front of them. Well, Zuko was doing his best to describe it accurately; Sokka seemed to simply be amusing himself with grandiose, hyperbolic descriptions. Toph could no doubt tell; she punched Sokka squarely in the bicep. After that, Sokka suggested they move along.

They walked past portraits of Sozin’s wife, who was curiously nameless in the placard with her status, and a family portrait showing young Azulon. There were a few more of young Azulon in military attire, which made sense, as his ascension to the throne had been when the war was young. They passed by Azulon in the official attire of the Fire Lord, hairpiece in place. The next time they stopped was in front of a portrait of Azulon, his wife Ilah, and baby Iroh.

“Wait, that fat baby is your uncle?” Sokka asked.

Zuko nodded, stepping closer to the painting. Iroh was painted as a smiling baby, reminiscent of his round, happy face in his current old age. It was funny how babies and old people were alike in that way.

“Alright, Toph,” Sokka said, rubbing his hands together. “Before Fire Lord Dickface was on the scene, it looks like the Royal Family was kinda sweet. Like, still murderous imperialist colonizers, but kinda nice. No offense, Zuko.”

“None taken,” Zuko assured him.

“We’ve got Fire Lord Azulon in army clothes, his wife, who looks essentially like a female Iroh if I’m being honest, and Iroh as a… what, maybe a twelve-month-old?”

“I don’t even know what Iroh _looks_ like,” Toph reminded Sokka.

“Shit, right. Okay, she’s got, like, a round face and high cheekbones? Her hair is in a really elaborate topknot, which I guess is standard for Fire Nation ladies. She’s a lot shorter than Azulon.”

“Oh, that must be where Sparky gets his height,” Toph said brightly.

Zuko frowned at her, though she couldn’t see him. “I’m still _growing_ ,” he insisted.

Toph stuck her tongue out in his general direction, and as a group they moved on.

“Here’s a portrait of Iroh and a baby — ugh, wait, no, that must be when the shitty Fire Lord was born. We don’t have to stop.”

“I think Iroh looks nice there, anyway,” Zuko said conversationally. 

In the portrait, Iroh was about twelve or thirteen and in crown prince’s robes that were very similar to what Zuko wore in his day-to-day while he lived in the palace. In teenaged Iroh’s arms was a baby comically outfitted in miniature official robes. It was hard to imagine that baby being the same man who would grow up to publicly burn Zuko’s face.

A little further down there was a wedding portrait of Iroh and a handsome woman with bright tawny eyes and a serene smile. 

“Is that your aunt?” Sokka asked. “Toph, it’s a wedding portrait of Iroh and a lady. They’re both in really fancy clothes, all kinds of gold jewelry. You’re rich, you know the type.”

Zuko nodded. “I didn’t know her at all, actually, but yeah. She died giving birth to my cousin Lu Ten. From what I understand, it devastated my uncle. He never talks about her. But from then on, he was the best father he could be to Lu Ten.”

“That’s, like, really sad.” Sokka said, ever one for words.

“He had some good time with her, though, right?” Toph asked. She was quite fond of Iroh, Zuko knew.

“I think so. The date on this wedding portrait is almost ten years before Lu Ten was born.”

“Good.” Toph said, and that was good enough for them to move on with. There were a couple portraits between where Zuko knew the paintings of his own family started: there was one of Lu Ten as a baby, and then when he’d started his bending training. Between them was the large portrait done of Iroh around the time he’d become a general. No doubt the portrait had been copied onto posters to plaster around the Fire Nation, another fragment of propaganda. It was an odd, somewhat uncomfortable thing for Zuko to align the powerful military leader version of Iroh with the man he knew: a kindly tea aficionado who rarely so much as raised his voice.

Zuko’s stomach filled with dread. He knew the next portrait. It was from the marriage of his own parents.

“Okay, Toph, this painting is the Dickface Fire Lord and I guess Zuko’s mom. Wow, she’s like, really young here. Was she young?” Sokka directed the last question to Zuko.

Zuko tried not to look at the painting. To him, Ursa didn’t just look young, she looked miserable. Sokka was waiting on an answer, so Zuko swallowed the bile in his throat and put his shoulders back. “She was twenty-one when they got married. My father was... maybe thirty?”

“Gross,” Toph said, summing up the situation pretty well.

“Do you think she loved him?” Sokka asked softly. For a split second, Zuko thought he might hate him for asking, but it was a question he’d asked himself many times before.

“I honestly don’t know too much about their relationship in the beginning. I know it was a match prophesied by the Fire Sages. It was a big deal, her being the granddaughter of the Avatar. So I guess it didn’t really matter if she loved him or not. I think she tried to, though.”

Toph spluttered. “Okay, forget if she loved Trash Lord Ozai or not — do you mean Aang is technically your _great-grandfather_?”

Zuko ran the hand not holding the flames over his face. “I _guess_.”

Toph snickered, oblivious or in spite of the tension roiling off of Zuko. “Spirits, that’s so fucking weird. Okay, so are we almost at Zuko’s baby picture or what?”

“Oh, yeah!” chirped Sokka, grabbing Zuko’s wrist and pulling him along. The contact somehow helped dispel some of the poison that Zuko felt filling his stomach. Sure enough, next on the wall was a painting of a round baby with bright gold eyes and a shock of black hair, half-wrapped in crimson cloth.

Sokka laughed, a sound painted with something suspiciously close to wonderment. “Haha, holy shit! Toph, Zuko was so cute! I just want to squeeze his little baby cheeks!”

Zuko groaned. “Sokka, shut _up_.”

“No, it’s true,” Sokka continued, waving a hand animatedly, “you were adorable!”

“Ugh. Let’s keep going.” It was weird looking at himself rendered so young, so new to life, so free of scars.

Lu Ten was in the painting that had been commissioned for Azula’s birth. It worked also to mark his entrance into the military at the age of about sixteen, the same as Iroh had been. In this painting, Lu Ten was sitting on a bench, Zuko stood next to him looking incredibly serious for a toddler, and infant Azula laid in the crook of Lu Ten’s arm. The three of them all had bright golden eyes, painted to be iridescent.

“Lu Ten hated that painting,” a voice behind them said.

The three of them jumped half a league into the air, the fire in Zuko’s palm flaring dangerously. Sokka had one hand on his boomerang. Toph, on the other hand, was smiling smugly. She’d probably felt his footsteps and heartbeat fifty paces out.

Iroh chuckled, a hand on his belly. “I probably should have announced myself.”

Zuko didn’t hesitate in extinguishing his fire and launching himself into Iroh’s arms. “Uncle!”

In the sudden darkness, Iroh hugged Zuko back. He smelled comfortingly of sea air and dried tea, maybe a little of sweat and incense, and was as solid and grounding as anything.

“Uh, not to intrude,” Sokka said after a moment, “but it’s kinda creepy being here in the dark.”

“ _Really_?” Toph asked in mock-surprise. 

Zuko was biting his lip again to keep from smiling. Both he and Iroh held out a hand for fire to rest in their palms. 

“How was the journey over?” Sokka asked, looking torn between bowing and offering a hand to shake. Iroh made the decision for him by reaching out to clasp Sokka’s shoulder in a familiar way.

“It was not bad, thank you. I took an eel hound from Ba Sing Se to the Pouhai Stronghold, and a boat from there. I’m quite accustomed to sea travel these days, heh heh.”

Zuko knew the allusion was to their days spent crossing every ocean looking for the Avatar. He felt a little guilty about the whole thing, but Iroh didn’t seem to mind.

“Why didn’t Lu Ten like the painting?” Toph interrupted. 

Iroh looked down at her. “Well, you see, it wasn’t that he didn’t like being depicted with his cousins — never that. The court portrait artist was very particular about what he wanted to capture, though, and in having Lu Ten holding newborn Azula with Zuko, a toddler, at his knee, Lu Ten felt it looked like they were his children instead of his cousins.”

Sokka hummed. “Yeah, I can see that.”

Zuko looked at Iroh. “I never knew.”

Iroh smiled slightly, even though his dark gold eyes were sad. “You know, you were the one who insisted on the portrait being done in the garden. It is customary for them to be done either in the throne room or in one of the retaining venues, but you insisted: the garden, you said, and the turtleducks!”

Zuko flushed. That _did_ sound like him. “I remember playing out there, vaguely. You would be there sometimes, home from the front lines.”

Iroh’s eyes looked so sad in the firelight. Zuko almost regretted bringing up the memory — it was just that he so rarely got to hear anyone talk about his childhood, to fill in gaps he couldn’t remember.

“Yes, you would drag me out there with your little hand wrapped around my pinkie finger. Your mother was busy with Azula. She was a very colickly baby — that happens sometimes with young firebenders. It’s like they have too much fire in their little bodies. Anyway, while Azula was young, Lu Ten and I kept you company.”

Zuko could almost hold it in his mind: the sunlight through the big trees, Lu Ten’s laughter as he ‘chased’ Zuko through the garden, Iroh sitting by the turtle duck pond humming. He thought it had been a dream.

“It was different when Azula was older,” Zuko said quietly, almost unconsciously.

Iroh nodded slowly. “Ozai was very protective of her. She showed signs of bending much sooner than you did, and he coveted that. I never got to know her very well, I’m afraid.”

“And you weren’t around much,” Toph pointed out bluntly. Sokka clapped a hand over her mouth, only to yank it away a heartbeat later and scrub it on his tunic after she evidently licked his palm.

Iroh chuckled. “You’re very sharp, young one.”

“She didn’t mean—”

“No, Toph is right. The war was in full swing, and then Azulon and I decided Ba Sing Se was the next move to make. I had had a vision when I was very young of conquering the city, and in my pride and arrogance, I was blind to anything but instant gratification of that vision.”

Sokka was shifting uncomfortably between Toph and Zuko. Afraid Toph would stomp on Sokka’s foot out of annoyance, Zuko shifted his own weight to lean slightly against Sokka and quiet his discomfort.

“My son’s death during the six hundred day siege was, in some ways, the catalyst for my brother succeeding to the throne. I have had many regrets about my actions in the past, and wondered how things would be different if only I had acted differently.”

“Uncle…”

Iroh put his hand on Zuko’s arm. “It’s alright, nephew. The White Lotus and I breached the outer, middle, and finally the inner walls of Ba Sing Se on the day of Sozin’s Comet. I was able to liberate the city — not conquer it as I once thought I would — and finally realize the vision I had had so long ago.”

Feeling somewhat overcome, Zuko folded himself back into Iroh’s arms. “I’m glad you returned, Uncle. I know you’d much rather be in Ba Sing Se, but I was so worried about the coronation proceeding without you.”

Iroh rubbed a circle on Zuko’s back. “Of course I would return for your coronation, nephew. This will be a momentous occasion not just for our family, but for the Fire Nation. A step in the right direction, I think.”

Zuko’s throat felt thick when he stepped back from his uncle and back against Sokka’s comforting warmth. “I hope so.”

“As much as I would like to look through these memories with you all, I think it’s time we had a discussion about your sister.” Iroh said gently.

Zuko dipped his head in acquiescence. It was time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some notes:  
> -I'm a huge fan of headcanons where Lu Ten is a non-bender, or as posited beautifully by [meetmeatthecottage](https://archiveofourown.org/users/meetmeatthecottage/pseuds/meetmeatthecottage), an earthbender. So my choice to make him a firebender here wasn't one I made with a ton of confidence. If you personally have a different headcanon, feel free to disregard my mention of him having firebending training!  
> -if I'm being realistic, the age gap between Lu Ten and his cousins is probably much smaller. the only reason I have him written as so much older in this fic is to have that comment that Iroh makes about Lu Ten not liking the portrait - there's an infamous picture of me and my cousins that the eldest dislikes because she's holding the youngest, who was an infant, blah blah blah. so again, if you don't like it feel free to disregard!  
> -yes I took some baby liberties with timing re:Iroh jetting across the ocean from the Earth Kingdom. 
> 
> Thank you as always for reading! any and all comments are extremely appreciated 😅


	5. Arc 1 Part 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iroh lends some insight to Azula and the historical tension between royal fire siblings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw discussions of Ozai's emotional manipulation/abuse of Azula and Zuko; not explicit

Toph announced that she was hungry as they made their way out of the portrait gallery, and Iroh agreed that they should have a meal. Zuko silently let Iroh take charge, falling into step with Sokka behind him. Toph was keeping pace with Iroh, asking him questions about the liberation of Ba Sing Se. She hadn’t tired of the war yet, apparently. Thankfully, Iroh seemed happy enough to humor her with stories of the victory.

Sokka and Zuko’s hands brushed against each other every so often as they walked. Zuko thought about putting distance between them, but decided against it. If Sokka had a problem, surely he’d move away.

He didn’t, though.

Zuko was wary about the guards, certain that they were still loyal to Azula and Ozai. Iroh, though, greeted the guards they passed, even going so far as to inquire as to the whereabouts of the others. They were receptive enough to Iroh, some of them even looking a little flustered by him. It took a moment for Zuko to realize that the last time Iroh had been in Caldera City, it had been in the prison — and he had a good idea of how palace guards treated prisoners.

At the entrance to the chain of dining rooms, there was a single guard posted whom Iroh immediately stopped to talk to. Zuko wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation, but when Toph leaned around him and loudly asked if their friends were already there, Zuko’s ears perked up.

“Yes, Lady Beifong,” said the guard, who had evidently been briefed by Kachi on who Zuko’s guests were, “The Avatar and his companions are awaiting your arrival.”

Zuko’s heart felt like it had been doused with cold water hearing that; he interrupted Iroh’s response to all but shout at the guard, asking who was with Azula. The guard quailed immediately, and Iroh raised an eyebrow at his nephew. Zuko took a deep breath and made himself step back.

“I— I apologize. What I meant to ask was, while Suki and Katara are away, is there still a guard posted in the west corridor where Azula is being kept?”

The guard bowed, deeper than he had when Iroh first addressed him. “Yes, Crown Prince Zuko. A guard has been stationed at her door at all times, as you ordered.”

Zuko tried not to visibly relax, though he could feel that flare of fear drain out of him. “Thank you.”

The guard gave him a funny look, but dipped his head again.

No one said anything about Zuko’s small outburst, but he kept catching Sokka looking at him from the corner of his eye. It made him embarrassed. He’d been so much better with his temper, lately. Being back in the palace made him feel the same turmoil and tension he’d dealt with as a kid, only intensified under the trauma of the war and the weight of the monarchy. He didn’t know how he was going to do this. He had to make everything right.

The dining room they were directed to was one usually reserved for palace guests, so it made sense that their friends had been directed there. There were a couple of dining rooms in the palace, located around the central kitchen. One of them, Zuko thought, had probably been empty for a long time. It was where the royal family was supposed to dine together.

Dinner hadn’t been served yet, but Suki, Aang, and Katara were sitting around one of the tables. Momo was sitting on Aang’s shoulder, chittering like he was a part of the conversation. At the entrance of the rest of the group, they broke off whatever conversation they’d been having and called greetings. Zuko swallowed the resentment rising in his throat. His friends could afford to be so relieved and happy because they weren’t about to personally inherit a war-torn nation that probably hated them. 

The nausea Zuko had woken up with was back. How was he going to manage?

Iroh settled himself at the table right away, greeting everyone, even the flying lemur. Iroh had been endeared to the group even before meeting them due to Zuko’s fondness for him bleeding out every time he spoke of his uncle. As such, he was easily brought into conversation.

Zuko was mostly silent between Iroh and Sokka, sitting across from Aang. His stomach was turning uncomfortably, and there was so much that needed thinking about that he didn’t know where to focus his thoughts. With a start, he realized there were expectant eyes on him.

“What is it?”

Iroh reached over to pat Zuko’s hand. “I was just saying how nice it is to talk to friends of my nephew.”

Zuko flushed. He still didn’t quite know what to do with affection if he wasn’t forcefully deflecting it. He was saved from either saying something prickly or something awkward by the service door opening and two servants entering with trays. It was an imported turkey duck from the Earth Kingdom, plates of fruit and vegetables, and heaping bowls of rice — nothing excessive, but a good, warm meal.

From the corner of his eye, Zuko watched Iroh take a sip of tea, wince, and immediately plaster on a pleasant face. It was amusing and at the same time a stark reminder to Zuko that putting on a façade was a family trait. Anyway, they all knew Iroh’s tea was the best there was.

For the duration of their meal, the topic stayed on lighter subjects: Aang’s plan to go in search of surviving Air Nomads, the things Sokka was looking forward to in the South Pole upon his return home, Iroh’s tea shop in Ba Sing Se. Momo scampered between Aang and Toph, who were both shamelessly feeding him from their plates. 

“Oh, Suki,” Zuko said, remembering the jail time commutals he’d signed that afternoon, “I was able to sign the paperwork to release the rest of the Kyoshi Warriors from prison. They should be out by tomorrow, if not this evening.”

Suki’s face split into a wide smile. “Oh, Zuko, thank you! I was halfway afraid I’d have to have you and Sokka break into another prison with me.”

Iroh raised an eyebrow. “ _Another_ prison?”

Sokka threw an arm around Zuko’s shoulder, oblivious to any tension between uncle and nephew. “Yep,” he said, “we broke into the Boiling Rock and broke my dad and Suki out!”

Iroh’s eyebrow rose impossibly higher. “Zuko?”

Zuko ran his hands over his face. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“The _Boiling Rock_?” Iroh shook his head wonderingly and said with a soft chuckle, “You are something else, Nephew.”

There was only so much talk that could be done avoiding the elephantrhino in the room. For a few minutes, they all let themselves enjoy the meal in front of them. Iroh was still making faces at his tea, Sokka was chewing with his mouth open. Things would’ve been normal, if they weren’t sitting in a palace - if Zuko wasn’t waiting to be crowned, and his sister wasn’t in the same palace wearing a belt of chains. 

“So what are we going to do with your sister?” Katara asked bluntly when her plate was nearly empty, correctly interpreting the tense set of Zuko’s shoulders.

Zuko tried not to sigh. He pushed his plate away, food mostly untouched. “I honestly don’t know.”

“Well, we can’t keep her in a palace bedroom forever,” Sokka said, and Zuko wanted to elbow him.

“Obviously, I’m aware,” he snapped.

“Tell me about the Agni Kai,” Iroh said, and that was a whole other subject Zuko didn’t want to get into. It wasn’t like he had much choice, though.

“Katara and I got here right before the Fire Sages crowned Azula. I immediately challenged her to the Agni Kai, and she accepted. It was out in the courtyard by the coronation pavilion; we didn’t come inside to the arena. She was in the coronation garments, so those are… smoky. I don’t even know what I’m going to wear tomorrow, _fuck_. Oh! Excuse me, I’m sorry, Uncle, really —”

Iroh’s face had gone still; he waved away Zuko’s apology in a jolting, belated way. “I don’t mind, Nephew. Tell me, though, what _happened_?”

Knowing he was visibly flushed, Zuko continued, “As soon as Katara and I got there, I could tell something was wrong with Azula. We’re all in agreement that she’s been losing it lately, but she seemed so wrong. It was in her bending: it was like our styles switched. She was bending like I used to, with massive, uncoordinated attacks instead of poise.”

“And you were able to get the upper hand that way?” Iroh pressed. 

Zuko’s gaze found Katara’s across the table, and he made a face. “Well, sort of.”

Katara wasn’t going to jump in and save him; she made that clear with a raised brow and tilt of her chin.

“I knew that I needed lightning to take her down,” Zuko said in a small voice, knowing Iroh wouldn’t be too happy about this next part. “It’s not like I wanted to _kill_ her, but I needed to be able to redirect lightning at her to incapacitate her. Otherwise, she’d never stop.”

Iroh nodded slowly. “So you goaded her into bending lightning at you.”

Zuko looked down at the table. “Yes. Except, at the last moment before she fired the lightning at me, she changed targets. Katara was still in the courtyard, and Azula aimed at her instead of me.”

There was a small uproar at the table as Aang, Sokka, Toph, and Suki voiced their disbelief and anger. Even Momo, not knowing what the commotion was about, joined in with a shrill shriek. Katara waved them all down, looking embarrassed.

“I’m fine, obviously,” she said. “Zuko saved me.”

All eyes were back on him. “So, I intercepted the lightning.”

Iroh’s gaze was heaviest of all. “Did you redirect the lightning like I showed you, Nephew?”

Zuko’s voice was very small. “Um, no. There wasn’t time — I didn’t think. I just jumped in front of the lightning. I couldn’t let Azula kill Katara.”

“You saved my sister’s life?” Sokka said on Zuko’s other side. “Like, at the potential expense of your own?”

“I—” was all Zuko could get out before Sokka’s arms were around his shoulders, pulling him into a tight embrace.

“I can’t believe you,” Sokka said into Zuko’s neck. “I can’t fucking _believe_ you.”

“Nephew,” Iroh said, making Zuko reluctantly withdraw from Sokka, “where did you intercept the lightning?”

Zuko scooted back on the cushion he was on so that he could show Iroh. It was difficult to untie his yi and shake it open, as his wound still greatly limited his mobility, but he did it. No doubt hearing what was going on, Toph wolf-whistled. That certainly didn’t make things easier (Katara snapped, “Where did you even learn that?” while Aang asked, “Toph, you’re still blind, right?”).

Finally, Zuko had the burn facing everyone around the table. He hadn’t had anyone rewrap it after his bath, so it was gooey and red and on full display. Much like the scar that Aang had on his back, the burn was jagged and sprawling. The skin around it was pink and angry, and there were fractal tendrils of bruising extending from it. The impression created by the burn was that it was like the impact crater left from some great projectile. Seeing it made everyone fall silent and look at Zuko with wide eyes. Iroh made a soft sound of dismay.

Incorrectly interpreting this as a comment on the state of healing the burn was in, Katara spoke up defensively. “I healed it as best I could,” she said, “you can see that the edges are already scarred, and the blistering is pretty minimal. It’s just, the lightning went deep. There’s layers to the wound, and it couldn’t all be healed at once. I — I should have come back and continued healing it today. I’m sorry, Zuko.”

“It’s alright,” Zuko assured her. The pain wasn’t too unbearable; for the most part, it was just a dull ache and limited range of motion on his left side. It wasn’t like that side had been perfect to begin with. It wasn’t like he didn’t know how to deal with continuous pain.

Iroh reached out to lightly touch his fingertips to the angry, pink new skin that surrounded the burn like wispy tongues of fire. His hands shook, making his fingertips as unsteady as petals in a breeze against Zuko’s skin. In a heavy voice he said, “Nephew, this is… this is _very_ close to your heart. You could have easily died. If Katara hadn’t been there to heal you right away, you probably would have.”

Zuko turned his gaze to the wood grain of the table once more. He felt ashamed of himself, even though he’d done what he felt he had to in order to survive. “I know.”

“What happened after that?” Aang asked. Zuko wondered if Katara had already told him, but Aang’s face was expectant. Zuko couldn’t help but feel that Aang was disconnected from the reality — from how devastating it had felt for Zuko to go head to head with his little sister. Then again, Zuko regarded the story that had been told to him about Aang defeating Ozai with a kind of unreality. Maybe that was how to cope.

“I was down for the count after that. You’d have to ask Katara.”

Katara squared her shoulders. “It’s honestly not that big of a deal. I got her frozen in ice from a storm drain and went from there. She pretty much lost it, seeing Zuko across the courtyard in the dirt. I don’t think she was seriously fighting at that point.”

“Yeah, Water Tribe!” Sokka crowed, reaching across the table to bump fists with his sister. Aang had his arm around Katara, squeezing her in a half-hug. Momo even abandoned the fruit he'd been eating off of Toph's plate to climb up onto Katara's shoulder.

“That sounds like very impressive bending,” Iroh said to Katara, though Zuko could tell he still had more to say about Zuko intercepting the lightning. There was probably a lecture somewhere in the near future.

“And that’s pretty much everything,” Zuko said. “I couldn’t — I couldn’t put her into the palace jail when we got her inside. I don’t know why. Maybe I’m weak. She just… seemed so _wrong_. I’ve never seen her so lost, so out of control.”

Iroh was nodding slowly in Zuko’s periphery, taking it in. Zuko hoped Iroh would be able to lend insight into what to do with Azula. He’d dealt with a crazy younger sibling once, right? But of course, Ozai and Azula were different people with different demons.

Toph was frowning, leaned forward with her elbows on the table and her chin propped in one hand.

“Alright, Toph, spit it out,” Sokka said, noticing her fidgeting uncomfortably about when Zuko did.

Toph’s eyebrows drew a little closer together. “It’s just… Zuko, did you really _win_ the fight? Or do we have the real Fire Lord in chains right now?”

There was a small eruption of their friends chastising Toph, asking things like _how could you even think that_?

“Really, it’s alright,” Zuko said over the din, “I’ve already had to talk to the palace staff about this, and they’ve grown up knowing Agni Kai rules. Give Toph a break.”

Toph was waiting for her explanation, though, one eyebrow raised.

Iroh was the one to explain, giving Zuko a small break. “In an Agni Kai, both parties are entering into a binding agreement to settle their dispute. There are ancient rules, upheld by honor -— and honor, which I am sure you are all aware, is a very important component of our society in the Fire Nation. One of these key rules central to the Agni Kai is that it is a duel performed one on one. It is dishonorable to direct bending to anyone but your opponent.”

“The moment Azula decided to strike at Katara, she threw the duel. She effectively decided that hurting or killing her would be so devastating to me that it wouldn’t matter that she lost the throne.” Zuko said. He was quick to add, “And she’d have been _right_ — I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost one of you guys. If she’d have killed Katara, I…”

Katara was blushing a little. “Zuko… thank you. But, I have to say — I don’t know how much _thinking_ Azula put into the attack. I don’t think she was even thinking about the Agni Kai at that point. I think she was just spiraling.”

“She’s been pretty calculating in the past,” Zuko countered. “I wouldn’t put anything past her.”

“Her voice still isn’t even back to normal,” Katara pointed out. To the rest of the table, she explained, “After I had Azula chained up, I went to Zuko and healed him as best as I could. Azula absolutely lost it. She was screaming and crying harder than I’ve ever heard anyone cry. You’d think she’d been wounded terribly, or that someone she loved had died. She was sobbing so hard that she was breathing fire.”

Iroh made a noise of surprise. “That’s interesting. Not many people can breathe fire — I don’t know if you all know this, but I gained the nickname ‘The Dragon of the West’ because of that ability. It’s something that takes time to master; it’s not often something done accidentally.”

Zuko shrugged. “I’ve never known her to be able to breathe fire, but maybe she picked it up somewhere.”

Iroh was still musing. “Li and Lo wouldn’t have been able to teach her. It’s something I learned how to do by appropriating air bending technique, as I taught you, Nephew.”

“You can breathe fire, too?” Suki asked Zuko interestedly.

Next to him, Zuko felt Sokka jump a little. “ _Oh_ -hoh, _can_ he! It’s, like, the most amazing thing ever —” 

“Sokka, you’ve _literally_ seen Aang go into the Avatar state,” Katara argued. “You just watched him defeat Ozai!”

“Yeah, but Zuko breathing fire is, like—”

Zuko resisted the urge to clamp his hand over Sokka’s mouth and instead cleared his throat loudly. “If we could try and stay on topic, please — I don’t know how much more time I have before some advisor comes to drag me away.”

Iroh had been watching the exchange back and forth across the table with an amused expression, his hands resting clasped on his belly. At Zuko’s interjection, he straightened a little and went for his teacup, only to find it empty. He sighed, and suddenly the whole mood at the table had sobered a little with him.

“I have no doubt that Azula is experiencing great inner turmoil at this time,” Iroh said gravely. “She has not had the easy life the outside eye would think.”

Zuko wanted to argue that, as he knew how much Azula frequented the palace spa, but he held his tongue.

“In this family, for whatever reason, there is a tendency to pit sibling against sibling. I noticed this when I was growing up with my brother, though I was much older. In a way, the age difference was a blessing, because we were able to have our academic and training exploits separate from each other for the most part. I will admit, I found myself on more than one occasion to be fiercely jealous of my brother, for he showed great strength in bending and had very good academic standing. 

“However, I tried to live my own life as much as I could. It was easy enough to follow in our father Azulon’s footsteps and join the military while my brother was still in school.”

Iroh paused to take a sip of the untouched tea Zuko had pushed toward him, and the rest of the table held their breaths, waiting for him to continue. It wasn’t like they were going to hear family history from Zuko. 

Zuko, on the other hand, was fighting the once-again present nausea. It was hard to think of his father as Iroh’s brother — Iroh was everything Ozai wasn’t. Iroh wasn’t a monster.

Iroh set the teacup down and clasped his hands once more, and around the table teenagers leaned in slightly.

“It is almost cruel that Zuko and Azula are so close in age. They have been pitted against each other from the very beginning — not organically, but intentionally, by Ozai. I used to correspond fairly regularly with Ursa, Zuko’s mother. Ozai used to read all of her letters before they were sent, and he kept many back, but I was able to understand even then — and across the ocean in the Earth Kingdom — that the siblings were struggling. Azula has always been a prodigy. Ozai prized that; he punished Zuko because he wasn’t more than perfect.”

Zuko’s face burned. Would it be in bad taste to leave? He felt like he was being laid bare, and to his only friends. How were their opinions of him going to change? It wasn’t like he could tell Iroh to shut up. Well, he _could_ , but he wasn’t a petulant, angry thirteen year old anymore.

“From this young age,” Iroh continued, “Ozai has been shaping Azula. He probably has had her picked out for his successor for a long time. As you can imagine, with the fact that he became Fire Lord and I did not, that the traditional rules are something he liked to overlook. In doing this, he continued to put Zuko down and continued to isolate Azula. Everything for her has hinged on pleasing Ozai. Her livelihood, her existence — everything. It is simply that this has been going on for so long that she hasn’t seen it that way.”

Suki had a thunderous look on her face, but when she interjected, it was with a calm voice. “Up until recently.”

“What’s that?” Iroh asked, turning to her.

Suki leaned forward a little and spoke clear and even. “I mean, she hasn’t seen the way everything has revolved around Ozai until recently. This summer, her whole behavior has changed, and then there’s been this absolute meltdown. I bet that as Ozai became more power-hungry, he began neglecting her more.”

“Yeah,” Katara said, her eyebrows rising. “When we went in to get her bathed, she and Zuko started arguing — oh, don’t frown, Zuko, it was no one’s fault — and she said, ‘at least he isn’t treating me _exactly_ how he treated you’, but that’s basically admitting that he hasn’t been kind to her lately. I mean, assuming that your dad wasn’t very nice to you, Zuko.”

Zuko couldn’t help the harsh bark of an incredulous laugh that escaped his mouth. “What, is it not very nice to publicly ruin your child’s face?”

“Nephew…” Iroh’s hand on his arm was a warning, but not an unkind one. 

“What do you mean?” Aang asked, tilting his head to the side and studying Zuko’s face. Zuko looked him dead in the eye and raised his single remaining eyebrow. Aang’s face became a mask of horror.

Flickers of confusion turned to shock and anger quickly on the faces of his friends. Sokka was on his feet first, reaching for his boomerang with the hand not white-knuckled around the handle of his crutch.

“Where did we say the palace jail is? I need to go have a word—”

“No you _don’t_ ,” Zuko snapped, grabbing Sokka’s hand and yanking him back down to the floor cushions. “It’s been nearly four _years_ , and no one is going anywhere _near_ that cell. Do you all hear me? _No one_.”

It was very silent for a moment, and then Toph sighed. “I think I might be missing something, guys.”

The resulting sheepish chuckle everyone got from that was enough to ease at least some of the tension that had been cloaked around the table. 

Aang did lean across the table, though, and lock his big grey eyes on Zuko’s face. In a low, serious voice that made him seem his hundred and twelve years, he said, “You’re not _ruined_. You’re not.”

Zuko didn’t quite know what to say to that, to Aang’s earnestness. Instead of trying to speak, he held Aang’s gaze a heartbeat longer before dipping his head in acceptance.

Suki was the one to bring the topic back to Azula. “I guess we still need to figure out what to do with her, though.”

Aang looked troubled. “What I’m hearing seems to be that, while we all agree that Azula has a… _murderous_ streak… there’s some idea that she wasn’t in her right mind, and was acting out of a place of pain.”

“At least for _some_ of this,” Suki clarified. “I think she knew what she was doing with the war crimes.”

“Yeah, I don’t think it’s been the whole time,” Sokka said with a frown. “She seemed pretty keen on following orders, you know, all the times she tried to kill us.”

“But does that make her as bad as the person _giving_ the orders?” Aang countered.

“She’s out of her mind.” Katara said bluntly.

“So institutionalize her,” Toph said, sounding rock-solid and serious even though Momo was sitting on her head, “that’s what they do with crazy people, right?”

Sokka hummed. “Yeah, but what if it’s all an act?” 

Katara turned on her brother, making a truly spectacular face. “Sokka, you weren’t _there_ . I don’t think _anyone_ could act that well.”

Zuko wanted to interject, a bit wildly, that their mother was an actress before Ozai married her, so there was really no telling. He held his tongue and instead buried his face in his hands. It was all so much to consider, and he had to be sure of things before everyone left and he had to deal with being Fire Lord on his own.

Iroh rested his hand on Zuko’s back, just a comforting weight. Under his hand, Zuko made himself pull deep, even breaths into his lungs. He hadn’t been able to meditate in a few days, and his mind was weary and overloaded.

The rest of the group continued to bicker, even as someone from the kitchen came in to collect long-empty dishes. 

“Does the burn bother you?” Iroh asked softly.

Zuko turned his head, still in his hands, to look up at Iroh with his right eye. “It’s not as bad as it could be. Really.”

“I can make a healing tea for you,” Iroh offered. “I’m sure there are the right herbs in the kitchens.”

A flicker of a smile twitched at the corners of Zuko’s mouth. He was so immensely grateful for his uncle. “Do you think you could make me your calm tea instead, Uncle? I think I need it.”

Iroh rubbed a circle on Zuko’s back, and for a moment Zuko felt like a child. “Yes, Nephew. I’ll bring it before you go to bed. There’s nothing to be anxious about, though. Everything will go smoothly tomorrow, I am sure.”

“And you’ll stay for everything?” Zuko hated the petulance creeping into his voice and he knew it was selfish to keep Iroh away from his tea shop. He couldn’t help himself.

Iroh gave him a small smile. “Yes, I’ll stay as long as you need me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So we're halfway through the first arc! The rest of this arc will be Zuko's coronation and Azula's reaction to all of it. Starting from next chapter, she will be introduced as a POV.  
> The second arc is still being completed and edited, but will likely see the rating bump to M, as well as a violence warning going on. I don't think anything is too explicit or gorey, but I want to make sure protections are in place for those who need them.
> 
> Thank you to [Olly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum) for their beta work + putting up with my 2 am writing woes and brain fog  
> You can find my ATLA/LOK blog [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/), where I'm more than happy to talk about anything and everything :)


	6. Arc 1 Part 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko attends to the last of the preparations for the coronation - and finally visits his sister

All too soon, an advisor — Zhi — appeared at the door, bowing and apologizing profusely. _I’ll have to get used to this_ , Zuko thought as he got to his feet. _Stealing pockets of peace; being hounded by everyone_. He knew he shouldn’t complain. This was what he’d always wanted, right?

As expected, Zhi was worried about what exactly Zuko was going to wear for the coronation. The palace tailor, Gaozong, was waiting in the hall near Zuko’s chambers. He, too, bowed long and low when Zuko approached.

“I’m sorry this is so late, Crown Prince Zuko,” the tailor apologized.

Zuko waved his hand. “I understand,” he said, and he did.

Another thing to get accustomed to being back in the palace opposed to on the road was the extensive closet. Zuko hadn’t really minded rotating between limited clothing; he didn’t have time to dedicate to outfit planning when he was training the Avatar. Being a Crown Prince — or Fire Lord, now come morning — required definite attention to detail, though. Everything was gilt and silk and heavy with embroidery.

In the time since the day of Sozin’s Comet, Zuko hadn’t even spent much time in his closet, which was roughly the size of one of the bedrooms at the Western Air Temple. He knew, too, that once he was crowned, he’d probably have a proper retinue of attendants picking out his clothes for him. It was an uncomfortable thought. 

Gaozong and Zhi looked at Zuko expectantly once they were all gathered in the large closet. It took Zuko a moment to realize they were waiting for him to give the clearance to be examined for his new garments. Pushing down a feeling of unease at submitting himself for inspection, Zuko squared his shoulders and raised his arms out to his sides, ignoring the scream of his sore muscles. 

Zhi stayed while Zuko was measured, poked, and prodded. It appeared he would be a more permanent fixture, something to Zuko like Lo and Li had been, in part, to Azula. 

Somewhat timidly, and then with a more even voice when Zuko didn’t immediately chastise him, Gaozong explained what they were working against to get things presentable in time.

The last coronation outfit that had been made was the one Azula had worn during the Agni Kai. If she’d bothered to take it off, if the two of them had dueled in the proper stripped-down attire the Agni Kais usually called for, this wouldn’t be as much of an issue. Hems could be dropped and shoulders could be hastily broadened, but fixing singed, smoke damaged silk was a completely different story. No one had anticipated there would ever be a need for Zuko to have his own coronation garments, not after his last defection from the Fire Nation.

“We didn’t exactly plan ahead, Gaozong,” Zuko sighed. He couldn’t help but feel guilty that the coronation robes had been damaged, though it wasn’t like he’d intentionally done anything to them.

Gaozong all but fell over himself to backtrack his words. “I apologize for my impudence, I in no way meant to offend.”

Zuko shook his head. He was so tired. “No, it’s fine. Please, it’s fine.”

“What about the outfit that Prince Zuko wore upon his return home earlier in the summer?” Zhi asked, gesturing to one of the racks of robes.

Gaozong stopped measuring the underside of Zuko’s arms immediately and turned to the racks. Zuko lowered his arms and watched the older men rifle through his clothes. The majority of them were from before his first banishment — he was glad that he’d grown since he was thirteen, but that wouldn’t help them for the coronation. He might’ve even grown since he had been back in the palace that summer. It was hard to say.

The hanger of the heavy, embroidered longpao was pulled out and presented to Zuko to try on. He bit back another sigh and started stripping his day-to-day linen yi, leaving his trousers. There probably wouldn’t be any more days in his future where he’d be able to go about the palace dressed so informally.

When Zuko shrugged out of his linen yi, he left his blasted chest bare to the room for a moment. He watched as both Gaozong and Zhi’s gazes darted to it, then pointedly away. So be it. The whole palace had heard about the Agni Kai at that point; at least these men had enough poise that Zuko didn’t have to anticipate any questions from them. They simply acted as if it wasn’t there. Gaozong held out the embroidered longpao for Zuko to achingly slip his arms into, and he didn’t drop his gaze to the lightning burn again.

The outfit fit, which was a relief. Gaozong had looked Zuko up and down, evidently concluded that he’d grown, and announced he would be sewing a new pair of trousers overnight to have ready to go in the morning. Already, his subordinate sewers were working on a proper cape, cobbled from scrapped outfits Ozai and Azula would no longer have use for. There wasn’t time to craft a bespoke coronation suit for Zuko, but they could make do. Crisis averted. The older men were visibly relieved. 

Zuko didn’t feel much of anything. He’d almost been hoping that nothing could be done, and nothing would be found for him to wear. He couldn’t be crowned if he wasn’t presentable to the nation, right? But this meant they were moving forward.

It was a silly thought, anyway. The Fire Sages would have their coronation one way or another — the Fire Nation needed a monarch.

Zuko found himself standing outside Azula’s door. The guard posted there was eyeing him anxiously, and Zuko couldn’t blame him. The tension rolling off of him must’ve been palpable, and nothing good ever came from the royal family getting worked up. 

It was at least two minutes of staring at the door before Zuko convinced himself to knock. What was he doing, seeking his sister out like this? She’d been dead set on killing him up until they’d gotten her in chains, and even now there was no telling what she’d do if she got the chance.

“Are you seriously asking my permission to come in?” Azula’s bored voice drawled from the other side of the door. Taking that as an allowance, Zuko opened the door.

Azula was sitting in the middle of the bed, hands at her sides. Whatever surprise she felt at seeing Zuko she kept off her face. “Oh. It’s you.”

Zuko stood awkwardly just inside the door. “Yeah.”

Azula raised an eyebrow. “Well? Are you afraid I’ll _get_ you?”

“ _No_ ,” Zuko snapped, and he walked a little more into the room. Azula always got what she wanted, of course.

“Why are you here?” Azula asked, her eyebrow still arched. “Came to gloat?”

“The coronation is tomorrow,” Zuko said. “I just thought you should know.”

For a moment, Azula’s mask flickered. For that bare moment, she looked like a lost child. Just as quickly, though, she’d schooled her features back into neutrality. “Why should I care?”

“Because you’re my sister. I don’t know.”

Azula scoffed. “Our blood relation hasn’t mattered for a long time, Zuzu.”

Zuko ignored that. “If you want to, you know, be there — maybe we can work something out.”

“Well, I _won’t_. Don’t bother.”

“Uncle is here, from Ba Sing Se. He might come see you.”

“And why would I want that stinky old man in here?” Azula asked.

Zuko knew she was goading him, so he focused on his breathing. “Because he’s _your_ uncle, too. Right now, you’re not really in a position to turn down people who want to be kind to you.”

Azula’s face screwed up, and her hands jerked like she wanted to throw fire at him, only to be caught by the manacles chained to her waist.

Something was off about the movement, though. It was like a wave pulling back from the shore and cresting, but never crashing down. Zuko frowned and took a step closer. Perhaps it was just the chains holding her wrists — after all, their very purpose was to keep her from bending. Still, he was curious. “Hey, try that again.”

Azula immediately went on the defense, narrowing her eyes at Zuko. “Why? So you can call the Avatar in here and tell him to take away my bending because I _attacked_ you?”

“No, I’m serious. Try to bend.” Zuko said, tilting his head. “I’m not going to call Aang or anyone.”

The way the chains were on Azula was to intentionally make bending near-impossible. She couldn’t raise her hands or get into any of the katas. Theoretically, she’d still be able to bend from her feet or even breathe fire, though, so Zuko waited.

Nothing happened.

Azula’s brows drew together in frustration, and then confusion. “I can’t with these chains. You have to take them off.”

Zuko shook his head. “ _You’re_ the prodigy. I’m sure you can work something out.”

“You’re teasing me!” Azula growled, lurching forward like she wanted to strike at him. She jerked against her binds and at her sides there was a little bit of sparking, but nothing more.

“Come on, Azula,” Zuko said, and he couldn’t believe he was actually asking his sister to bend at him. She was incredibly deadly and he had only barely survived their last fight. What was he doing? Actually _encouraging_ her?

Azula rocked back onto her tailbone and kicked her feet out towards Zuko. There wasn’t so much as a wisp of smoke. She looked almost comically surprised. “What’s going on?” she cried, “What did you _do_ to me?”

Zuko shook his head. “I haven’t done anything.”

“Liar!” Azula shrieked. Zuko half-expected her to spit a flame, but nothing happened.

“Try to get your fingertips to flare,” Zuko encouraged, thinking of the idle way he’d seen her set the tips of her sharp nails on fire the brief time he’d been in the palace earlier in the summer.

Azula was tensing so hard against her binds that her face was going red. Her hands were claws at her sides, pink from the healing all-over burns and stubbornly fire-free. “It’s not working!”

Panic and raw fear had Azula looking more her age than she’d seemed in a long time. How could this be the same girl who struck fear into the foremost generals of the Fire Nation Army? Who conquered Ba Sing Se? Who had nearly killed Aang?

Zuko shook his head slowly. “Azula, I think you’ve lost your bending.”

Azula’s eyes were wide and tear-filled. “You let the Avatar in here while I was asleep!”

“Believe me, Aang hasn’t been in here. You know it’s possible to lose your inner fire, don’t you?”

“Fix it!” Azula wailed, throwing her head back.

Zuko could only shake his head. Of all things, he hadn’t expected anything like this to happen. Sure, he’d lost his own fire before — twice, even; the first time after the Agni Kai with Ozai and then again after he defected from the Fire Nation in order to train Aang. But he’d never imagined someone like Azula could lose their fire.

Zuko felt something like eerie calm, watching Azula fall apart in front of him. It was careful fear, crawling up his spine and making him cold. “I can’t fix it,” he told her in a soft voice, “only you can do that.”

“Well, tell me _how_!” Azula demanded. Her usual commanding tone was lost somewhere with the tears on her cheeks. “You have to help me!”

What was he supposed to tell her? _Sister dearest, you must find your inner fire again yourself. You must learn to draw your chi from a new place. And barring that — well, you’re in luck, Uncle never killed the dragons after all, and perhaps they’ll teach you the way of the ancient firebenders. That is, if they don’t kill you._

No, if he tried any fraction of that, he’d surely push Azula even more over the edge. Zuko backed slowly toward the door. It was too much, seeing Azula so shaken. It wasn’t _right_. He didn’t know what to do.

“I can’t,” Zuko repeated. “I’m sorry.”

The light caught the tears in Azula’s eyes, and for a moment Zuko saw the portrait of them as babies with Lu Ten, all their eyes painted with iridescent gold. Divine children of the Royal Family, that was them. Who’d have known all that would happen in the next fifteen years? Azula was properly crying at that point, so utterly bewildered that Zuko felt like he needed to comfort her properly. But what if it was all a ruse? What if the moment he went to her, she’d wriggle out of the chains and blast him?

“I’ll talk to Uncle,” Zuko told her. “Maybe he’ll know.”

“Are you really leaving me?” Azula asked tearfully. She sounded like a child, like she was as young as she’d been when they still played together under their mother’s watchful eye. 

Zuko’s stomach twisted dangerously, like her might be sick. Since when did she _like_ him enough to even ask? “I can’t stay. I — I’m sorry.”

He was out the door before she could say anything else. The guard in the hall had a funny look on his face; Zuko couldn’t tell if it was because he’d been eavesdropping or because of the way Zuko had bolted out the door.

“If anything seems off, call me, please.” Zuko instructed over his shoulder, already headed down the hall. He had to get away from her, he had to find some way to breathe — to force the nausea down. 

Seeing Azula like this made him feel like he needed to take _care_ of her, even though she’d literally tried to murder him less than forty-eight hours before. His head was spinning. Where was _that_ Azula? What had happened to her? How had she — _Azula_ , the prodigy, the preferred one, the daughter that was Blood-of-Agni through and through — lost her fire?

It wasn’t Iroh, as Zuko expected, but Katara waiting for him in his chambers. She was on her feet the instant Zuko entered. He took a deep breath to school the turmoil off his features and waved for her to sit back down on the low sofa she’d been perched on. 

“I thought I’d try to heal your burn some more,” she explained by way of greeting. “And anyway, it needs to be wrapped up.”

Zuko deflected his surprise, saying, “Right, I’m sure the tailor would be glad if I didn’t get burn goo on my official coronation garments.”

“Well, you don’t need to have an open wound getting stuck to cloth, anyway,” Katara said, already opening her flask of water.

Zuko untied his top and shrugged it off his shoulders. Maybe he should’ve felt more self conscious in any state of undress around Katara, but it was _Katara_. He sat next to her on the sofa and closed his eyes.

“Now, I don’t know how much more I can heal this, especially because your body is already working to heal the burn itself. When I healed Aang’s lightning blast, it took a couple sessions, too, but that had a lot to do with the spiritual damage.”

“I’m sure whatever you can manage will be helpful.” Zuko assured her, leaning his head back against the wall. A moment later, the cool, tingling sensation of Katara’s healing power covered his chest. Through his closed eyelids, he could see the blue glow. Perhaps this is what he needed to take his mind off his sister.

Katara worked in silence, moving her hands slowly along the bottom of Zuko’s sternum and the inner part of his ribcage. The deep ache was still present in his muscles, but he took the new itching in his skin to mean the burn was healing a little more. The small relief was enough to make him let out a grateful sigh.

“ _Wow,_ Katara. That feels so good—”

Whatever Katara might have said in response was lost in the embarrassed spluttering of someone else entirely. “Oh! My bad, I do apologize! Let me just leave this here, I’m sorry—” 

Zuko’s eyes flew open and he all but knocked Katara to the side. A myriad of swears ran through his mind. Iroh was in the doorway, quite red faced and holding a teapot and two cups. Whatever he thought was happening _obviously_ wasn’t, but just the fact that his mind had gone there had Zuko’s cheeks on fire. 

“Uncle, _no_!” Zuko all but shouted, scrambling to his feet. “Katara’s just _healing my burn_.”

Katara looked torn between irritation and embarrassment. In the scramble to jump away from each other, she’d splashed her healing water all over herself and the sofa. “ _Spirits_ , Zuko… Hello, General Iroh.”

Iroh looked between Katara and Zuko, still pink-cheeked. “I’m not... _interrupting_ anything?”

Katara wrinkled her nose. “ _Ugh_ , Tui’s gills, no!”

Zuko rolled his eyes. “Uncle, Katara was only trying to heal my lightning burn a bit more.”

Iroh blinked slowly. “I see… I apologize for interrupting. Nephew, this is the tea I promised you. I’ll just leave it here.”

Katara was already getting to her feet. She bended the spilled water out of her dress and the sofa, collecting it into a blob in the air before returning it to the flask on her hip. “That’s alright, I was about done, anyway. Now it just needs to be bandaged, and then I can go. Unless you want to bandage Zuko up, General Iroh?”

Zuko buried his face in his hands. He still couldn’t get over Iroh’s mind going _there_. Instead, he said, “Could you both stay for a moment, actually? There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Alright, then.”

Iroh nodded and came over to sit on the sofa in Katara’s place. He set the teapot and the cups down on the nearby table and passed the roll of bandages there to Katara. Zuko got to his feet and held his arms out as much as he comfortably could so Katara could wrap him up.

“So, what is it?” Katara asked, deftly starting the wrap.

Zuko picked a point on the wall across from him to stare at. “I went to visit Azula after I finished with the tailor.”

“Alone?” Katara asked, punctuating this with a sharp tug on the bandage. Iroh simply raised an eyebrow and said, “Oh?”

“We were talking, and she went to argue with me with, you know, a fire blast. Only, she couldn’t.”

Katara was making a very pointed face at Zuko, he could tell, but he steadfastly avoided looking down at her.

“Was this because of the chains on her?” Iroh asked.

“Well, that’s what I thought. But it’s only her hands that are bound — so, if she really wanted to, she could’ve been bending with her feet this whole time. I thought something about the movement seemed off, though, so I asked her to try and intentionally bend at me.”

“You _what_?” thundered Katara, poking Zuko in the chest for emphasis. 

“It would’ve been _fine_ ,” Zuko groused back, shifting away from her sharp fingers. She held him in place with the bandages and went back to wrapping up his chest, up toward his shoulder, though it sounded like she was very softly complaining under her breath.

“So you asked your sister to firebend at you, and what happened?” Iroh pressed.

Zuko turned away from the wall to meet Iroh’s frown. “She couldn’t.”

“She couldn’t,” Iroh repeated. It wasn’t a question, just a heavy acknowledgement.

“I bet she was just faking it,” Katara said sharply. “Trying to get you to come closer so she could burn you.”

Zuko shook his head. “She absolutely panicked. She thought I’d managed to sneak Aang in and he’d taken her bending away.”

“Could she manage anything at all? Smoke, sparks?” Iroh asked, leaning forward.

“Sparks, once, but that was it. She was really trying, too. Her whole face was red and the tendons in her neck were standing out.”

“Okay, so let’s say she lost her bending. Is that the end of the world?” Katara asked. “She’s, like, a war criminal.”

Zuko couldn’t help but bristle a little on his sister’s behalf. “I guess it’s more the principle of the thing — she’s a bender strong enough to have defeated _Aang_ in the past, and overnight she can barely produce sparks.”

“I should have expected this,” Iroh said heavily. “I think it’s something of a family curse.”

Katara looked up at Zuko. “Like when you lost your bending this summer?”

Iroh cocked his head to the side, looking not to Zuko but to Katara. “My nephew lost his bending again?”

Annoyed, Zuko brought a flame to life on his outstretched hand. “I got it back, it’s fine.”

“You literally had to get it back from the Sun Warriors, though.” Katara said, and Zuko wanted to shove her or something.

Iroh’s eyebrows had gone impressively high. He cut his eyes toward Katara and back to Zuko. “You journeyed to the Sun Warriors?”

“Aang and I journeyed to the ruins and learned the Dancing Dragon over the summer. I… I found that after joining Aang’s cause, I’d lost my ability to bend. I had been using anger to fuel my fire for so long that when I no longer had Aang to be angry at, I couldn’t generate my inner fire.”

There was pride painted on Iroh’s face, but he only nodded calmly. “This is similar to when you lost your bending when you were thirteen.”

Katara was wrapping along Zuko’s left shoulder, stabilizing the pulled muscle in conjunction with the burn. In a careful voice, she said, “You never told us that you’d lost your fire before.”

“After the Agni Kai with my father,” Zuko said softly. “I used to flinch so badly when someone so much as lit a candle around me. Uncle was the one who got me through it. I had to almost completely relearn firebending, starting with the basic katas that children learn.”

“You did very well, Nephew,” Iroh reassured him. “You overcame great trauma and learned how to accurately direct your bending with a different line of sight within the year.”

Zuko looked at the ground. That year had been one of the most miserable of his life, and as kind and patient as Iroh had been with him, Zuko knew that he himself had acted despicable. “I think the shock of our father having his power — bending and otherwise — taken away was jarring enough to Azula that she lost her inner fire.”

“Not to mention the decline of her mental health over the summer,” Katara added thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” Zuko agreed. Azula had exhibited questionable behavior in the past, but lately she’d been another level of unhinged.

“General Iroh, what did you mean by saying this might be something of a family curse?” Katara asked.

“Just ‘Iroh’ is fine,” Iroh told her. He took a deep breath, as if to steady himself. “I, too, have lost my fire before. I’m sure you know of the original Siege of Ba Sing Se.”

Zuko’s stomach twisted. He knew immediately what had sapped up Iroh’s inner fire, and he wanted to step in and keep him from having to say it aloud, as if that would make the pain less. He knew it wouldn’t be his place, though, so he held his tongue.

When Katara nodded, Iroh continued, “After six hundred days of trying to breach the walled city, my only son, Lu Ten, was killed. I lost all my will to fight. I couldn’t create the smallest flame, let alone lead an army to victory.”

“I’m so sorry,” Katara said in a hushed voice.

“It’s been many years now,” Iroh told her. “It was only through much inner searching that I was able to find peace. And I, too, visited the Sun Warriors.”

Finished with Zuko’s bandages, Katara stepped back and put her hands on her hips. “So, what? To get Azula her bending back, everyone needs to teach her the Dancing Dragon? I mean, does she even _need_ her bending back? She’s a prisoner. It makes her a lot less of a danger if she doesn’t have the ability to blast people.”

Zuko pressed his lips together. Katara had a point; did Azula really need her bending anymore? He sighed. “After everything she’s done, I still feel bad. She’s my _sister_. Bending has always been something integral to who she is.”

“She was always destined to be a prodigious bender,” Iroh said solemnly. “We failed her in not nurturing her humanity and instead only encouraging her power.”

“Uncle, you weren’t really there for our childhood — it’s not a failing on your part that she turned out like she did.”

“So that’s it?” Katara interrupted. “We’re going to _help_ Azula get her bending back?”

“This is something she must navigate herself; we cannot fix her bending because the loss of it implies that she has lost touch with herself. One day, I hope she will find peace and stability. When that time comes, she will only feel like she is in control of her own body if _she_ finds the way to restore her bending.” Iroh explained.

Katara turned to Zuko. “Have you decided what’s going to happen with her after your coronation? I know Ozai is being moved to that isolated prison—”

A little forcefully, Zuko said, “I’m not putting her anywhere _near_ our father. He’s a poison; all he’ll do is hurt her more. I don’t care what damage she’s caused. She doesn’t deserve that.”

Katara was silent for a moment, and Zuko could almost see her thinking. Finally, she said, “I think I should leave. I don’t think I can separate my bias from the situation to be any help in deciding what happens with Azula.”

Zuko nodded. “That’s fine, Katara, really. Thank you for coming in to heal me again.”

Katara put her hand on Zuko’s arm over the bandages and gave it a little squeeze. “Of course. See you in the morning, Fire Lord.”

Zuko waved her off with a strangled chuckle, not quite sure how to properly respond to that title yet. Katara bid Iroh goodnight and left the chambers.

When he was certain that Katara had gone, Zuko sat down on the sofa next to Iroh. In a quiet voice in case the guard outside was listening in, he said, “Dragons? You never told me about them. I thought they were extinct! I thought _you_ made them extinct!”

Iroh gave him a small smile. “I made a promise to Ran and Shaw that I would protect their existence. I am so glad you were able to meet them.”

Zuko huffed out a laugh. “I thought they were going to eat me alive. But what they taught me… I was able to bend like I never have before.”

“And you’ll carry that with you for the rest of your life,” Iroh pointed out. “You will be a better Fire Lord because of them, because you have been willing to learn.”

Zuko’s stomach flipped. “I don’t know if I’m going to be a very good Fire Lord. I’m going to try my hardest for the Fire Nation, though.”

Iroh patted Zuko’s knee. “The fact that you care about your nation and your people says everything. That’s already a step ahead of whatever Ozai was leading with, and even ahead of Azulon. Moving forward from this war will not be easy, but the Fire Nation can begin to heal if you show them the way."

Zuko sagged a little on the sofa, leaning his head against the wall again. “It’s so _daunting_.”

Iroh reached for the teapot on the table, testing its temperature with the back of his hand. He hummed at what he felt there, and flipped his hand around to direct a wave of heat at the teapot. After another moment, he was satisfied with the tea’s temperature and set the cups out to pour.

“The tea is not as good reheated, but it will do.”

Instead of insisting on guidance, Zuko watched Iroh pour the tea. It was almost a meditative motion, so familiar it was like breathing.

“Do you miss the tea shop?” Zuko asked.

“Yes,” Iroh said plainly. “When I return to Ba Sing Se I intend to reestablish it. I think it will be better than ever.”

“Maybe one day you won’t have to hide that you use firebending with the tea.”

Iroh half-smiled and passed a teacup to Zuko. “Maybe.”

They fell into comfortable silence, sipping their tea. Iroh’s calming tea had been legendary on the Navy ship while Zuko was banished, usually because the crew members needed to be brought down after Zuko lost his temper at them.

“So what do _you_ think should happen with Azula?” Zuko finally asked.

Iroh hummed. “It’s a complicated thing. What would be best for her; safest?”

“Maybe Toph was right. Maybe she should go to a mental institution.”

“Would she be happy there?”

“It’s not a question of happiness at some point; it’s a question of what will be _safest_. What if her bending comes back suddenly? What if she decides to hurt the people around her? She can’t just unlearn the cruelty she’s been taught overnight.”

Iroh nodded slowly. “You are right, Nephew.”

The silence was back, stretching on for a little longer this time. Zuko thought he could almost feel the calming tea working, easing some of the tension in his limbs.

“I wish there was a way for her to experience what I did when I was about her age. Not — not the Agni Kai or the burning, and not necessarily the exile. I mean you, Uncle. You saved me.”

Iroh looked at him, his gold eyes soft. “Nephew…”

“I mean it. I was horrible to you, but you stood by me, and you made me better. I would be nothing today if I hadn’t had your guidance. I’m sorry I pushed you away and let you down so many times. Uncle, you saved me all the time.”

Iroh put his arm around Zuko, pulling him close. “I would do it again. I’ve always loved you, Nephew.”

Zuko blinked back the tears in his eyes. “I want to be good enough for the Fire Nation. I don’t want to fail.”

“You will be, Zuko,” Iroh told him with clear conviction in his voice. “I know you will. And I will always be here when you need me.”

“And when you’re not here?” Zuko couldn’t help but ask.

“I have spoken to many of the palace staff and advisors. They will stand by you. Show them you can lead, and they will follow.”

“What about people who think my father should still be Fire Lord?”

Iroh patted Zuko’s cheek, his thumb brushing over the deep scar. “The whole world has been weary of this war. You will find more people on your side than against you.”

Zuko let his eyes close. It was all easier said than done. “I just want to be enough.”

“You are,” Iroh told him. “But now the night grows late, and tomorrow is a big day. I will leave you to get some sleep.”

Zuko opened his eyes and went in for a proper hug from his uncle. He sighed against his shoulder, breathing in his comforting smell. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Iroh patted his back. “Always, Nephew.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [that one salt man meme] and i will add in the fact that Iroh loves Zuko unconditionally....
> 
> So I know it was in the tags, but what do you guys think of this situation Azula is in? I'd love to hear your thoughts! I haven't seen redemption ideas where she loses her bending before, and while I like to be a little unique, I think this lends a great opportunity to look into Azula as a character. I hope you guys like the exploration and development of her that's to come.
> 
> Iroh's appraisal of Azula and her bending - how she would have to adapt to live without it, etc - is a bit of me projecting 😳 I have a few chronic illnesses/disabilities, one of which rapidly worsened this year and left me bedridden and unable to do things I love. Azula's reaction to losing something integral to her sense of self is inspired more than a little by the way I've had to learn to be myself again.
> 
> I'm planning on relaxing the posting schedule for this last half of arc one -- arc two hasn't been beta'd yet! We'll get there in due time, though. This is assuming I can keep myself from uploading twice a week 🙄
> 
> You can find my beta Olly's work [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum), and you can find me on tumblr [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/) 💘


	7. Arc 1 Part 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning before the coronation, Zuko has visitors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end of this chapter features a scene taken from the finale episode

Zuko did manage to sleep, but he was awake the moment the sun touched the horizon. The palace, he knew, had likely been awake for a while already. To serve a household of firebenders, who rose with the sun, the staff had to wake up that much earlier. Still, there wasn’t any sound to indicate their presence in the corridors or back rooms.

Zuko felt a flare of homesickness, there laying in his bed. He didn’t know how to place the ache in his ribcage, the one that went deeper than the lightning burn. And would this even be his bed for much longer? Certainly he’d be moved into the larger, more lavish chambers that had always belonged to the Fire Lord. His stomach turned at the thought of walking the same paths around carpeted floors and staring at the same tapestries on the walls. 

He wished he’d changed sides to help Aang learn firebending earlier; he wished that he’d had more time with the group. He wished that he hadn’t been so uptight even right after changing sides. He wished he’d let himself act like a teenager, if only just to let himself actually laugh at the jokes Toph and Sokka told or enjoy the lulls in the day when the best thing to do was anything _but_ train. He should’ve sparred with Suki, he should’ve let Katara tell him more about her mom. And he still owed Toph a ‘life changing field trip’, didn’t he?

There was no changing any of that now.

Zuko had finally convinced himself to sit up, his chest protesting dully, when there was a knock at the bedroom door.

“Enter,” he called hoarsely, his voice rough and cracked from sleep.

A servant he vaguely recognized poked her head in the door, dark amber eyes wide. She looked young — and wary. She probably hadn’t bargained on finding the soon-to-be Fire Lord still sitting on his bed in only a pair of sleeping pants.

“Breakfast, Prince Zuko,” she explained, stepping fully inside with a laden tray. “General Iroh sent along tea as well. He said to remind you, um… he wanted you to be reminded that he brews his tea with love.”

Zuko’s cheeks warmed with embarrassment. He wasn’t surprised Iroh had asked the servant to relay the message though. That had been… sweet of him, and appreciated. “Thank you…”

Realizing that he was awkwardly asking her name, the servant dipped in a half-bow over the tray. “Hiina, sir.”

“Thank you, Hiina. You can put the tray on the table.”

Hiina did as he directed, then stood to the side, her hands clasped like she wanted to wring them but knew better than to do so.

“Is there anything else?” Zuko asked.

“Your itinerary for the day, Prince Zuko — I’m to remind you that the Fire Sages will want to see you before midmorning in the temple.”

Zuko nodded. “Alright, thank you. If that’s all, you can be dismissed.”

Hiina bowed again and slipped from the room. Zuko finally stood from where he’d been sitting on the edge of the bed and walked over to inspect the tray. There were a few assorted pastries, as well as congee and fruit. He could smell the jasmine from the teapot. It should have been comforting, but instead Zuko found that it turned his stomach.

Instead of eating or even pouring a cup of tea, Zuko instead walked over to the large window in the back of the bedroom. This was where he usually had a mat set out to stretch, work through katas, and meditate. A mat hadn’t been put back down between returning to the palace and then, so he settled down in the lotus position on the cold stone floor instead. 

It had been a while since he had meditated last. When had he had the time and the stability? He couldn’t remember. He felt _bad_ that he couldn’t remember. The last days had been so chaotic and long, they had blurred together. No wonder his nerves were on edge.

Zuko sat and took a deep breath, using the filling of his lungs to straighten and align his back. He visualised the notches of his spine and the bones between that they held coming together like a building. From the bones of his legs and pelvis where the cold of the floor bit through the thin material of his sleeping clothes up to his aching shoulders and the muscles holding them together. With each breath, he tried to let some of the tension go. 

It was hard to let go of the rigidity in his limbs — the last couple days, it was that tension that had held Zuko together. Without it, he felt liable to fall apart.

Still, meditation had been something of a second-nature to Zuko at one point. He let his mind shift into the routine it had followed countless times before, working through the steps. Soon, the cold of the floor and the ache from holding himself upright melted away. 

There was no telling how much time had passed when Zuko was jolted out of his reverie by a knock at the door. He sighed and got to his feet before calling for whoever it was to enter.

To his surprise, it was Sokka and Katara. The guard who’d opened the door didn’t bother stuttering through announcing them; he simply bowed and closed the door behind them.

“Good morning,” Zuko said softly. 

Katara smiled up at him, still soft from sleep. “Did you get any rest after I left last night?”

Sokka wrinkled his nose at his sister. “What were you doing bothering Zuko last night?”

Katara gestured to Zuko’s chest, which was bare except for the bandages covering the burn. “What do you think, dumbass?”

Sokka made an ‘a-ha’ noise and nodded like he’d learned something interesting. “Carry on, little sister. Oh, good morning, too, Zuko.”

Zuko resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He should’ve been loose and calm after meditating, but the beginnings of a tension headache were forming behind his eyes.

“Why are you guys here? Not that — not that I’m not happy to see you, of course—”

Katara rolled her eyes, but she was smiling in a knowing way. “We stopped by the tailor’s pretty early this morning, because _someone_ remembered only recently that he’d worn holes in his only other pair of pants,”

“Hey!” Sokka squawked indignantly from where he’d wandered over to the breakfast tray. “There’s been a lot going on lately.”

Katara only shook her head in exasperation. “Anyway, there was some talk going on about who was going to bring you your ceremonial clothes. I thought, might as well bring them and come check on you at the same time.”

Zuko chuckled humorlessly. In his mind, he heard the way the audience cheered at the end of the Ember Island Players’ _The Boy In The Iceberg_ when ‘he’ was killed. “My own servants dislike me so much they argue about who has to interact with me.”

“I don’t think that’s it,” Sokka said. His mouth was half-full of pastry. “I think it’s more like, they’ve been dealing with your crazy family for so long and they don’t know much about you. Like, worst-case-scenario, you’re _worse_ than them. You _did_ just beat Azula in an Agni Kai, and you trained the Avatar, who defeated your shitty awful father. So maybe the servants are just cautious.”

“Sokka’s right,” Katara said, holding out the armload of cloth she’d been carrying. “I don’t think anyone in the palace actually dislikes you.”

Zuko took the clothes, feeling like the weight of them might be symbolic of the weight of the monarchy he was about to take on. He couldn’t help adding a bit petulantly, “Just wait for the assassination attempts to start happening.”

“Don’t you worry, buddy,” Sokka said, throwing an arm around Zuko’s shoulders. “I’d like someone just try and get at you when I’m here with Space Sword — wait, _fuck_ , I lost that, didn’t I? Still! We’ve got your back!”

Zuko leaned minutely into the contact. “Yeah, but you guys are leaving. And you didn’t tell me you lost Space Sword. That sucks.”

Katara gave him such a sympathetic look that for a moment Zuko felt like he was the younger person in their dynamic, or at least not someone who would be crowned monarch of an entire nation in the next couple hours.

“You know that even though the rest of us have duties to attend to, too, we’ll always be here if you need us. Seriously. You won’t be alone.”

Sokka squeezed Zuko’s shoulder. “And also, you should eat. It didn’t look like you’d touched your breakfast. We could always get Toph or Aang in here to lecture you about self-care! But just between us, I think one of those options will be more of a guilt-trip, and the other might involve arm punches.”

That finally got a soft laugh out of Zuko. He stepped out from under Sokka’s arm and went to dump his coronation garments unceremoniously on his bed. When he turned back, the Water Tribe siblings were watching him with twin expectant expressions. 

“Alright, fine, I’ll eat. But only if you guys stay with me a little longer.”

It was almost an act of cruelty to himself, Zuko thought, keeping his friends around. It was just going to hurt that much more when they left. Still, Sokka and Katara didn’t seem to mind. Sokka barely used his crutch to cross the room; Zuko suspected Katara had continued healing the break in his leg the same way she’d kept after the lightning burn on his chest. The siblings sat around the chabudai and offered easy smiles when Zuko settled down with them. 

“I’m surprised you guys are already awake,” Zuko said, “with it being so early.”

“There’s lots going on today,” Katara pointed out. “A bunch of people are coming into the city for the coronation.”

“There’s going to be a Water Tribe delegation!” Sokka said more succinctly, thumping his crutch on the ground as punctuation.

Zuko nodded in understanding, though he didn’t look up from the teapot, which he was reheating. “You’re hoping to see your father.”

“And Bato! He should be out of prison, with the war being over and all.”

“Do I know who Bato is?” Zuko asked Katara — not sarcastically, but earnestly trying to remember if he was someone Zuko had managed to forget the name of.

Katara shook her head. “You probably wouldn’t remember him. Do you remember when, um, you had my mother’s necklace and used that to track us and Aang?”

Zuko groaned. “I _really_ am sorry about that, I had no idea how important that was to you—”

Katara waved away Zuko’s apology with one hand, the other hand touching the pendant at her throat. “It’s behind us now. Anyway, you tracked us to that abbey where there were nuns making perfume, and you and Aang fought in the courtyard.”

Zuko nodded. “That shirshu stung me. Uncle kept hitting on June. It was weird.”

“Bato had been staying at the abbey,” Sokka began, “recovering from a Fire Nation attack on the rest of the Water Tribe party he and my father were a part of. You’d just missed him. He’s hard to miss, too — he’s, like, the tallest guy around.”

“Bato’s always been like a second father to us,” Katara explained, “especially after our mom died. He’s been our dad’s best friend since they were little kids.”

Zuko sat back a little, nodding. “I guess that makes sense. You know, I don’t think my father even had any friends,” he joked weakly.

Sokka giggled. His eyes crinkled into blue half-moons with his smile. “I can’t even imagine your dad as a kid, like one of _us_ or something.”

Katara gave her brother a dirty look, most likely one that meant _stop talking about Ozai,_ but Zuko decided to humor Sokka.

“What, can’t imagine a kid with that stupid beard?”

Sokka laughed properly at that, reaching out to rest his hand affectionately on Zuko’s arm. “Man, you’re actually funny when you remember to loosen up.”

“Sokka!” Katara chastised. She had a look on her face that reminded Zuko vaguely of his mother’s, scolding Azula in the garden for burning flowers.

Sokka shrugged. “I’m not wrong.”

“No, you’re not,” Zuko sighed. After the silence stretched on a heartbeat too long, he added, “But at least I’m not as terrible at joking as my sister.”

“Are you any closer to reaching a decision on what to do with her?” Katara asked. She was fiddling with one of her hair loopies, not looking at either Zuko or Sokka directly.

Zuko shook off Sokka’s lingering grasp and rubbed a hand over his face. “Not really. I talked to Uncle about it for a while last night. I think maybe Toph might be right about putting her in some sort of institution. I don’t know. I just wish she could have the same guidance I had from Uncle when I was about her age. It changed my whole outlook on life — once I started listening, anyway.”

When Zuko turned to look at Sokka, there was a look Zuko recognized on his face — he had an idea. When he saw Zuko’s raised eyebrow, though, Sokka shook his head. “I’m working on it, give me a minute.”

Zuko made himself sip at his tea and take a bite of congee, just so he could say that he had indeed made an attempt at eating breakfast. 

“What time do you have to be ready?” Katara asked.

“The Fire Sages want me to be ready by mid-morning, even though the ceremony isn’t until noon. There’s customary prayers to Agni, stuff like that, to be said in private.”

“Damn,” Katara said sympathetically. 

Zuko nodded his agreement. “I haven’t even started trying to get my hair up.”

“I could help, if you wanted,” Katara offered in a pointedly casual voice. She examined the ends of her own hair, as if she’d suggested something too boring to hold her attention otherwise. From his limited vision to the left, Zuko could tell that Sokka had stilled, momentarily abandoning the breakfast he’d been working through.

Zuko frowned. “Are you offering to do my hair?”

Katara shrugged. “I mean, just so you don’t have to fuss with it. I know you have limited mobility with the burn, and all.”

Zuko considered his options — he didn’t want to be rude and turn her down, even though it was a sort of intimate thing in his opinion. On the other hand, she had a good point about his burn making it hard to do a lot of things, and if she didn’t do his hair, who would? He’d have to call in an attendant. Zuko’s gaze slid properly over to Sokka, who met his eyes but gave him nothing more than a shrug. This was going to have to be Zuko’s call.

“Sure,” Zuko finally said. “There’s, um, there’s a brush somewhere around here, and cord or ribbon to tie it.”

Katara was already on her feet, headed for the en suite bathroom to poke around. Zuko turned to Sokka. There was a smear of honey on his cheek from one of the sweet pastries he’d devoured. Zuko’s mouth went dry, and he had to swallow three times and look away before he could talk.

“Are you ready to speak on your idea yet, Idea Man?”

Sokka’s lips flickered in a small smile at the nickname, but he only shrugged. “I don’t know if you guys will like it. I’ve got to make sure my arguments make sense.”

“Of course you do,” Zuko said, offering his own small smile. He’d been a little displeased when they’d shown up that morning, but he was grateful for the siblings to be with him.

Katara was back with the supplies she needed. She took one look at her brother and the honey on his face and rolled her eyes. She tucked the brush under her arm to reach out and grab one of Sokka’s hands and roughly bring it up to his own face, making sure his fingers found the honey.

“ _Honestly_ ,” she muttered under her breath, shooting a look over her shoulder to Zuko, no doubt for commiseration. 

Only, Zuko’s eyes were drawn to Sokka licking the honey off his fingers, and he found it hard to breathe again. Thankfully, the moment was broken when Sokka tried to lick the remaining honey off his own cheek by stretching his tongue out of his mouth; he reminded Zuko so much of one of the aardvark sloths the Sun Warriors kept that his breath returned with a huff of laughter. 

He hadn’t noticed the concerned line between Katara’s brows until it disappeared with her own smile.

“Are you ready?” Katara asked, brandishing the brush. 

Of course, that was what they’d agreed on: she’d coax his hair into behaving, and he’d let himself be attended to. Zuko sobered, nodding. He tried not to flinch at the contact, even though her hands were gentle. He wasn’t tender-headed, just wholly unused to being taken care of.

“Are you going to finish that?” Sokka asked, pointing at the picked-at congee. He broke so sharply into Zuko’s thoughts that it took tightening his jaw not to jump.

Zuko considered the bowl, and then his friend, raising his one eyebrow. “Haven’t you already eaten enough?”

Sokka shrugged. “I mean, probably. If _you’d_ just actually eat, then I wouldn’t be tempted.”

Zuko gave Sokka a sideways glare, but didn’t argue. He instead took a pointed bite of the congee. Sokka smiled. It was worth it, even though Zuko’s stomach threatened to turn.

Katara sighed behind him. “Your hair is at _such_ an awkward length, Zuko.”

“Would you rather I still had a phoenix tail?”

Sokka barked a laugh. “See? He’s funny!” 

“Is that the bald ponytail thing you had going on?” Katara asked, tugging lightly on his hair.

Zuko could play this game; he could act like his life wasn’t about to change forever in a few short hours, he could pretend that his chest didn’t ache every minute he spent with his friends because he didn’t know when he’d have this again. He arranged his face into something proud, mocking — something to make the Water Tribe siblings laugh even though his words weren’t funny. “Yeah, that’s what that was. I had to shave the rest of my head when I lost my honor.”

“I can’t believe you showed up at the South Pole fuckin’ _bald_ ,” Sokka said, ignoring the weight of what Zuko had said, just as Zuko had hoped he would. Zuko swatted at him the best he could without jarring Katara. 

Sokka was snickering. “You didn’t even wear a hat. Don’t they have _hats_ in the Fire Nation?”

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to laugh out loud. Smiling made his cheeks ache. Agni, losing this was going to be something like the end of the world.

“And _all_ your hair is supposed to be tied up?” Katara asked, breaking into his thoughts. She sounded extremely dubious.

“At this length, yeah,” Zuko said, pulling himself out of his thoughts, the smile dropping off his face with the return to reality. “I think I’m going to grow it out, though — it’s customary.”

“Katara, move,” Sokka said, reaching behind Zuko to bodily shove his sister out of the way and drag himself into her place behind Zuko. “I’ve got this.”

“Okay, but since when would _you_ know what you’re doing?” Zuko countered, twisting around as much as he could over his shoulder before pain stopped him.

“Who do you think did Katara’s hair after our mom died? Dad was running the tribe and Gran-gran has rheumy joints. Obviously, being the stellar big brother I am, _I_ did.”

Katara sat back down next to Zuko, opposite where Sokka had been and, unfortunately, on his bad side. “He’s right, unfortunately.”

“And anyway, I’ll tell you guys what I think should happen with Azula.”

“Oh?”

“I think you should send her to Ba Sing Se with your uncle.” 

Zuko would’ve made more of a fuss, but Sokka had a pretty good grip on his head. Katara was frowning, but waiting to pass judgement.

“You said yourself that you wished Azula could have the same kind of guidance from him that you did,” Sokka pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn’t mean ‘send my murderous sister into a recovering city which she previously conquered,’” Zuko snapped.

“Katara told me and Suki last night that Azula lost her bending. Is that right?”

Zuko turned his head to properly fix Katara with a frown, but he answered Sokka. “Yeah, it’s true.”

“So it’s not like she’s going to be shooting lightning at people.”

“My uncle runs a tea shop. She would have to interact with people,” Zuko said flatly. He let Sokka manhandle his head around to face straight ahead, breaking the exchange of dirty looks Zuko had begun with Katara.

“Yeah!” Sokka said. “Customer service. It’ll build character!”

Sokka was combing stray hairs on the nape of Zuko’s neck up into the topknot, which was wholly distracting. Zuko clenched his fists and forced himself to concentrate. “Sokka, you’ve never _worked_ customer service — or any kind of job.” 

“Yeah, but _you_ have,” Sokka said blithely. “And look how you turned out! You’re fantastic now.”

“I worked in the tea shop before joining Azula and getting Uncle thrown in jail,” Zuko argued.

“But everything worked out.” Sokka insisted, putting his hands on Zuko’s shoulders and squeezing.

Zuko sighed. “I mean, eventually.”

Katara made a soft harrumphing noise that prompted Zuko to look over. When he did, Katara pointedly looked between her brother and Zuko. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think Sokka’s idea might work. And, like, I can’t remind you enough that I literally think she’s awful. But maybe this could help.”

Sokka practically crowed in Zuko’s ear. Zuko raised his eyebrow at Katara.

“I don’t know, just think about it!” she said, already getting to her feet. “Anyway, we’ve probably overstayed our welcome. Now that your hair’s done, you’ve got to get dressed, probably.”

Zuko reached back and felt around his head. Sure enough, it was all up. “Wow, Sokka…”

Sokka squeezed Zuko’s shoulders again. “Don’t mention it, buddy. Happy to help. But think about the Azula thing, okay?”

He was already throwing back the last of a cup of tea and grabbing the last pastry before Zuko could think to respond.

“I’ll see you guys… after?” he asked.

The Water Tribe siblings turned back to look at Zuko before they were at the door. “Of course you will,” Katara said.

“We can introduce you to Bato and everything,” Sokka added brightly.

“I’m looking forward to that,” Zuko told them, and he meant it.

Zuko was struggling to put on his ceremonial shenyi when another visitor arrived.

“Let me help you with that.”

Zuko would recognize that low, disinterested voice anywhere. Unbidden, his stomach swooped. “Mai!”

She was leaning against the wall. How long had she been there, watching him? There was a tiny, tiny smile on her face — which, for her, was saying something.

“Are you okay?” Zuko asked, opening his arms as best he could with the shenyi half-on. She walked around him instead and shook the robe out, holding it so he could slip his arm in.

“They let me out of prison. My uncle put in a good word and all.”

Zuko didn’t tell her that he’d had Ukano all but begging at his feet. “I’m so glad you’re out.”

“It doesn’t hurt when the new Fire Lord is your boyfriend, either,” Mai commented, running her hands over his shoulders to smooth out imaginary creases in the silk.

The last time they’d seen each other had been at the Boiling Rock. Sure, Mai had saved their asses, but — the state of their relationship had been pretty unclear. 

“Does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?”

Mai slid her arms around Zuko’s waist and rested her chin over his shoulder. “I actually kind of like you.”

Zuko closed his eyes and took a deep breath, taking in the feel of Mai’s body against his. She was one of the constants in his life — even though she’d always technically been Azula’s friend and not his, Mai had been a fixture in his landscapes even when others died or disappeared.

“I’m glad you’re back,” Zuko murmured.

Mai slid her hands up to rest on Zuko’s chest over the thick bandages. “I’m glad to be back. Now, who did this? Azula?”

“Azula,” Zuko confirmed.

“How… how is she?” Mai asked softly. There was uncertainty there, if you knew to listen for it. She didn’t sound so stubbornly confident.

“She’s being kept in one of the small bedrooms. I… _couldn’t_ put her in the prison.”

“Even after all she’s done to you? To me?” Mai didn’t sound angry, but definitely surprised.

Zuko put his hands over hers, lacing their fingers together automatically. “She’s still my sister.”

“Yeah,” Mai sighed, “I know what you mean. Ty Lee and I talked about it, you know, when she wasn’t palling it up with those Kyoshi Warriors, and we both want to see her.”

Though she didn’t ask outright, Zuko knew Mai was asking permission. Usually, it wouldn’t be something that crossed either of their minds, but hierarchy and etiquette were values drilled into Fire Nation citizens from a young age, especially ones with diplomatic ties. Zuko pulled away from Mai to turn and face her, still holding her hands.

“Yeah, I figured you guys would want to. And maybe we can all decide together what’s going to happen with her.”

“Are you really not planning on putting her in prison?” Mai asked, raising one of her thin brows.

Zuko let go of one of her hands to scrub over his face. “I don’t know. I don’t want to just lock her up somewhere — I want her to get help.”

“Well, whatever you decide… I’ll stand with you,” Mai told him, squeezing his hand.

Just hearing that had something of a wave of relief crashing over Zuko. It wasn’t that he had expected Mai to harbor vitriol toward him, not too much more than usual — but that she would continue to stand by him, after everything… it was more than he could have hoped for. Zuko opened his arms again, and Mai stepped neatly into them to wrap her arms back around him. 

With her face tucked into his neck, she said, “Never break up with me again, okay? And if you do, just… just tell me to my face. Don’t leave another fucking note like that.”

Zuko breathed in the smell of her shampoo, the hint of her perfume, and sighed. “I won’t.”

Mai rocked back enough to tilt her face up for a kiss, which Zuko gave her without hesitation. It was like putting on an old pair of slippers, or picking up a training sword with the grip so worn it was basically a mold of his hand. It was familiar and comforting and exactly what he needed amidst the chaos. It wasn’t a deep kiss; just the soft kind they’d always used for comings and goings.

In spite of her reputation, Mai had always been better at expressing herself than Zuko. She broke the kiss and turned her face, still close enough that the tip of her nose touched Zuko’s cheek. Against his skin in a voice that was barely a whisper, she said, “It’s always been us. You and me.”

“Me and you,” Zuko confirmed on an exhale, breathing the words against her skin. It was true.

Mai tilted up to kiss him again, longer and just a bit more insistent this time. Zuko kissed her back, because it was probably the easiest thing he’d be doing all day. He was intensely grateful for her.

Too soon, she was stepping back against the circle of Zuko’s arms. “I’m going to go meet back up with Ty Lee. She and the other Kyoshi Warriors were reconning with their fearless leader last I saw them. I’m sure you have stuff to get to, anyway.”

Zuko blinked. Mai had said that before and he hadn’t really processed it, but — “Do you mean Ty Lee joined the Kyoshi Warriors?”

Mai gave his shoulder a little shove, gentler than she usually would only because of the presence of the bandages. “Yeah, stupid. Haven’t you been listening?”

“You’ll have to tell me more about how that happened,” Zuko told her seriously, and Mai smirked.

“Whatever you say. I’ll see you later, okay?” Mai tugged on Zuko’s robe so he’d lower his head and let her kiss his cheek goodbye. Zuko belatedly kissed her cheek as she pulled away. So, they weren’t perfectly back in sync. That was alright; they’d get there.

When she was gone, the chambers felt colder. It was no matter — Zuko had to go meet with the Fire Sages. The coronation was nearly ready to begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Taking care of your friends through mutual grooming is something that can be so important... so tender...  
> Fanart of Zuko having his hair done by either of the Water Tribe kiddos has made me weak for years, so I was so happy to include this.
> 
> I do have a soft spot for Mai and Zuko's relationship... as I've previously stated, this is a Zukka fic - but I can't leave our knife-throwing goth gf out 💘 she's going to stick around and be featured more in the second arc as well.
> 
> I'm still trying to stretch out posting this last half of arc one, but we'll see how well I adhere to that 🥴  
> The feedback I've received here has been so lovely - and it's all so, so appreciated. Y'all make my day 💘
> 
> You can find me always on my ATLA & LOK bullshit [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/), and you can find my beta Olly [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum) 😊


	8. Arc 1 Part 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko's being crowned Fire Lord. Azula doesn't care. _No_ , she _doesn't_ , stop asking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for unintentional self injury and elements of a panic attack
> 
> yes some dialogue is taken from the show + explanation for some possible characterization anachronisms in the end notes

Azula had been staring at the wall for what felt like hours. Well, it probably _was_ hours. She didn’t have a window in the bedroom Zuko was keeping her in, so there was no way for her to tell time other than the servants who came in with meals. They always quailed spectacularly when they had to enter the room, usually hiding behind a guard in full plate armor. Ridiculous.

Since the revelation that her bending had decided to stop working, Azula had spent all night trying to bring it back. She wasn’t _Zuko_ — she couldn’t just _lose_ her inner fire. She’d always had such lovely, strong fire. In the last several years, it had burned blue, hotter than every other firebender she knew. There weren’t even fables or stories about firebenders wielding blue flames. It was just her.

Azula huffed and jerked against the chains on her wrists and waist, trying to twist out a fire whip. Like every other attempt that night, there wasn’t so much as a spark or plume of smoke. Her wrists were raw and bruised from all the straining against the cuffs she’d done. The pain meant nothing, absolutely nothing. Just like Azula without her bending — absolutely nothing.

It was likely that Zuko had lied, and that the Avatar had come in and stolen her bending while she slept. Zuko had never been a good liar, but maybe he’d gotten better. He was full of surprises, wasn’t he?

Azula laid back on the bed, arms at her side, and raised her legs and hips into the air. It was something she’d seen Ty Lee do before — support herself on her elbows and upper back. With her legs kicked up in the air, Azula tried striking the inverse of a kata. There was no grounding here, nothing to flex against, but she persisted. Maybe if she could strike the right form, her fire would come back.

She took a deep breath, imagined the air going into her chi and lighting her inner fire, fueling the flames. She tensed her muscles, like drawing back an arrow on a bow. She kicked out. 

Nothing. There was nothing.

Azula screamed. And it felt _good_ to scream, so she sucked in another deep breath and screamed again. When had she let loose like this before, without fear of some higher power coming down on her? Without duty to her father to be the perfect princess — to be everything Zuko wasn’t — holding her into rigid numbness?

Her throat was still stripped raw from the day of the Comet; she imagined so many scabs inside her esophagus ripping open, or being scraped clean off by the might of her scream. That was a fun thought. Even chained up and forgotten in a dark bedroom, Azula still had control over her breathing and her body (more or less) — so she could scream some more, and no one could stop her.

Usually, if Azula had decided to fist her hands in the sheets and throw a tantrum, the room would go up in flames. The bed linens refused to so much as smolder.

After she’d been carrying on for a little while, Azula had a thought that made her next scream die in her raw throat. No one had come in to check on her. Not even the guard she knew was stationed outside the door. No one had come for her.

No one cared.

 _No one cared_.

It was hard to take the next breath in; exhaling was another challenge. Her chest had become a vise. All she was doing was furthering the narrative that had been spinning in underground news circulations in the weeks before the Comet — that she’d lost her mind. No one would dare say it like they meant it, not out loud where they could be arrested for libel and treason. But it was something whispered about.

Maybe that’s why no one was coming to check on her: maybe there wasn’t anyone left who gave a damn about her. Maybe, though — maybe it was because they thought she was being murdered, and they all thought _good, we’ll be free of her_.

It was a shock that the sheets hadn’t burst into flame at that thought. Azula felt like she could _feel_ her inner fire just fine; it was burning away her lungs and eating up her stomach. Azula wanted to cry. Only, tears wouldn’t come. They were gone, just like her bending — and her title, and her status, and her friends. All of it was gone.

There was no more fun to be found in screaming, or even popping her wrists as hard as she could against the manacles. Azula was frozen, splayed back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. She pulled in ragged breaths through her mouth; it felt like a komodo rhino was stepping on her chest. No, _sitting:_ fully sitting on her chest, pushing her into uncomfortable nothingness.

Agni, Azula wished she could cry, if only to relieve the tension built up inside her body. This was what happened to people when they couldn’t bend, she was certain — all the fire was trapped in their body until it was so full to bursting that they died an explosive, unenviable death. Was she dying? Maybe that was good. Maybe that’s what would be best, even, for the Fire Nation.

Azula settled back on the bed. _A komodo rhino smushing me into nothing would — I_ guess _— benefit the Fire Nation in these ways…_ She was getting ready to fully delve into the topic when the door opened.

Azula jerked hard against her chains, reflexively trying to get into a defensive stance. She was half-sitting up before she registered who had come into her room.

It was one of the Kyoshi Warriors. Azula blinked. She knew this girl — the leader, Suki.

“What do you want?” Azula rasped. Her voice was more gone than she’d realized.

“What do you think?” Suki strode over to the bed, making it clear that she’d heard the news that Azula could no longer bend.

Azula scowled and stuck her nose up in the air. “I’m fine. You can go.”

“Azula…” Suki said so softly, with such palpable pity that Azula flinched. “Are you _really_ fine?”

“Obviously — _fucking_ — not!” Azula spat, swinging both her arms around as much as she could. She didn’t think she could actually land a hit, and it was almost a relief when Suki easily caught her hands and held them.

“Is there a reason in particular you were screaming, or was it just because?” Suki continued in that horrible, gentle voice. It reminded Azula of the way Ursa used to talk to Zuko. It made her want to scream more, but she couldn’t find it in herself to do it. Like her fire and her tears, her screaming had abandoned her.

Azula stared up at the ceiling so she wouldn’t have to address whatever stupid simper was on Suki’s face. She blew her jagged bangs out of her face and said, “Just because.”

“You had everyone freaked out. Zuko was almost pulled out of his meeting with the Fire Sages.”

Of course. Somehow Azula had forgotten, but the delay in anyone coming to check on her made sense, remembering that Zuko’s coronation was imminent. He’d finish the meeting with the Sages where they’d all pray to Agni for things like a long rule and stability for the nation, and then he’d go to be publicly crowned.

“Obviously, though, they would need to know what the matter was, so they finally came and got me instead,” Suki continued.

“What, are you second in line for the throne?” Azula snapped.

Suki had the audacity to chuckle, as if Azula had made a joke. “That would be interesting, huh? No, I’m just your friendly neighborhood Kyoshi Warrior.”

“You can’t be from this neighborhood,” Azula pointed out.

“No,” Suki agreed drily, “but I don’t have a lot of options since Zuko burned down my village in his hunt for Aang.”

That got Azula’s attention. She dropped her gaze from the ceiling. “My brother did what?”

Suki shrugged. “He came in with a bunch of soldiers and burned the place down. Earth Kingdom thatched roofs and wooden beams don’t really stand up to firebending.”

Azula scoffed. “Obviously not.”

Suki shrugged again. “Alright, well. If you’re done screaming, I’ve got to head back to the temple. Zuko’s coronation begins pretty soon.”

Instead of replying, Azula threw herself back down on the bed. “Whatever.”

“Did you want to go?” Suki asked. “Zuko said he’d already asked, but…”

“And I told him 'no'.” Azula said flatly, moving to cross her arms before the chains stopped her. Agni, that was annoying.

“You still have a few minutes to change your mind,” Suki wheedled.

Azula rolled onto her side to face away from Suki. Why would she want to attend a coronation that wasn’t her own? She'd already done that for Ozai, _twice_. No more.

Behind her, Suki sighed. Azula listened to the swish of her skirt as she crossed to the door, and the heavy open and shut of the door itself. No, she didn’t want to go to the coronation. She didn’t want anything to do with those people. She was in this room for a reason; the reason being that she’d lost the Agni Kai and lost the throne.

Zuko hadn’t even been there for Azula’s almost-coronation. He’d been off training the Avatar, breaking into prisons, wreaking general havoc against his own nation. That had stung — Azula knew that, at the time of her almost-coronation, that she would be completely alone. Her father was crowning himself Phoenix King; he had bigger things to do than to attend a simple Fire Lord coronation. And Azula had banished everyone else. She was supposed to kill Zuko, anyway, not have him as her witness.

And now Zuko was getting the throne and the hairpiece and all the witnesses he could want, and Azula was in a dark bedroom in chains.

Maybe she did want to be there. The thought snuck up on her, and within a heartbeat had grabbed hold. She wanted to be there. She wanted to be witness.

Azula took a deep breath like she was getting ready to bend lightning. Her throat protested just from the inhale and absolutely threatened to give out when she actually managed to holler. 

It was a wordless yell, much less shrill than the earlier screams, but it was all Azula could get out. Hopefully it would be enough. All she could do was wait.

Azula strained her ears for the thunder of booted feet running for her door. There weren't any. She rolled over to face the door and frowned at it, as if that could conjure someone. Maybe they hadn’t heard her. Maybe she’d been too late. The coronation was going to happen without her.

She opened her mouth to try and yell again. Her whole throat felt like one big scab, worse than any cold she’d ever had. The air she breathed was simultaneously sharp and cold, and it burned.

The door opened once more, and there was Suki. The relief that crashed over Azula was staggering and confusing.

“No, you don’t need to do any more of that.” Suki said, offering a half-smile like Azula was some friend of hers and not a prisoner she’d fought before. She swept into the room like she belonged there.

“Will you take me to the coronation?” Azula croaked. Her voice didn’t want to work at all and was barely more than a gasp, but she wasn’t going to stoop so low as to repeat herself. 

Suki smiled a little wider. “Of course. I just had to get the girls with me. We’ll be your personal guard.”

“Prison wardens,” Azula ground out, sitting up.

Suki shrugged, reaching out a hand to help Azula to her feet. “Sure, if you like that better.”

Azula swallowed her pride as best she could with such a wounded throat and raised one of her hands as much as she could to place it in Suki’s gloved hand.

Seeing the discoloration and broken skin of Azula’s wrists, Suki hissed through her teeth. “Kyoshi’s boots, that’s nasty,” she said, splaying her fingers to stretch them under the manacle and feel the swelling. “Like, _fuck_ , Azula, this is bad,”

Azula shrugged. “I keep forgetting I have the cuffs on.”

Suki gave her a look that clearly said _I know that’s not the cause of this_ , but she only said, “We’ll talk about this when we bring you back. Fuck, Azula.”

Azula levelled a dead-eyed stare at Suki, silently daring her to say more. For a moment, they had a stand-off of sorts: one of them clearly in a position of power, both refusing to budge. It was Suki who broke first, though not out of lack of resolve. There were time limitations, so there was really no time to go back and forth. Suki tugged Azula’s hand, still in hers, and off they went. They had a coronation to catch.

Azula was surrounded by Earth Kingdom green. She couldn’t see over their headpieces or shoulders, with them inches taller than her in their boots. The flock of Kyoshi Warriors had gathered around her like a phalanx, and Suki had explained in no uncertain terms that the Warriors had all been instructed in the art of chi-blocking. And that was because none other than Ty Lee had joined their ranks.

Disbelief and flickers of deep betrayal crawled under Azula’s skin. There wasn’t much she could do about any of it, standing barefoot in the middle of a pack of warriors in the wings of the temple, watching the Fire Sages prepare to crown Zuko.

Still, Ty Lee. That hurt.

Like, with everything Azula had done for her — she had been Ty Lee’s livelihood, hadn’t she? And this was how she was repaid? By Ty Lee deciding to join up with a pack of dirt girls and, even worse, teach them tricks to incapacitate benders?

From where the Kyoshi Warriors had Azula positioned, they could all see the Fire Sages in their ceremonial robes and the sacred fires they’d brought to life in bowers. For this part of the coronation, they didn’t need Zuko, they just needed an audience.

They’d passed Zuko on their way to the wings of the temple. He was silently waiting in a guarded part of the temple, ready to greet his people. For all intents and purposes, he had already gone through the coronation process — all except for having the actual crown fixed to his head and being presented to his people.

Zuko was wrapped in coronation garments, pieces of which Azula thought she recognized from textiles that had been set aside for her. He was pale where his face wasn’t burnt, and his hair was pulled up and back in the proper style — not down, like he’d kept it while running like a heathen with the Avatar. Still, he managed to look calm and centered. That rankled her.

Azula knew how the coronation process worked, having just gone through it days before. The Fire Sages were big on Agni and big on prayer. There were all kinds of little prayers they wanted the heir-apparent to go through: for blessing the people of the Fire Nation, and the crops, and the tide of the war. There were prayers for eternal fire, and prayers for victorious warfare that had been added in in the last hundred years. 

In more functional royal families, there was allotted time for the regent’s wife and/or mother to come in for more prayers. When Ozai had taken the crown years ago, it was right as Azulon died and Ursa disappeared. He’d waived the family time. He could intimidate his children at any time; there was no point in bringing in Zuko and Azula to gloat over. Azula supposed that if things were different, _she_ would be the family Zuko would want to pray with.

She wasn’t sure she believed in an all-powerful god, though. Maybe they were descended from Agni, but the raw power Azula had known in her fourteen years was definitely not immortal. It was ephemeral, and it ate its host from the inside out. Everyone burned.

Standing in the midst of all the Kyoshi Warriors, Azula shifted uncomfortably. _Everyone burned._ The realization had come to her in a matter-of-fact way, but it tasted bitter on her tongue. Like ash, like charred food. Like the air after shooting lightning. Like screaming blood into her mouth.

One of the warriors shot Azula a dirty look over her shoulder, as if to chastise her for not standing stock-still. Azula scowled back, but the warrior didn’t flinch away like she was supposed to. Didn’t she remember Azula soundly taking down the warriors with Mai and Ty Lee? Azula was someone to be taken _seriously_ , cuffs or not. Perhaps, though, the warrior and her sisters remembered _too well_ the beating they’d taken.

At the open part of the temple, the Fire Sages were gathering. The leader of the group, an old, worn looking man, stepped forward to address the crowd. There really hadn’t been much of a crowd when Azula had her coronation. The military assault on the Earth Kingdom had been paramount — Ozai had made that clear to her, and Azula had accepted it. Well, she had _mostly_ accepted it. When she had spoken back to him in protest, the anger she’d been greeted with was such that she thought her face was going to be burnt off. 

Now, reflection on that day made her feel sour. He had never really meant for her to have power. Having her become Fire Lord while he fashioned himself Phoenix King was like a consolation prize; it was a gag, it was something to keep her occupied and out of his way.

Unthinking, Azula tried to raise a hand to run through her fringe. But her hands were chained and her fringe had been butchered. A Kyoshi Warrior — not the one Azula had exchanged scowls with, but one directly next to her — sent a sharp elbow right into Azula’s ribs. It took her more off-guard than anything else.

“ _Hey_ ,” Azula hissed, as best she could with a ruined voice.

The warrior who had elbowed her made a face, darting her eyes toward where Zuko was surrounded by Fire Sages and back to Azula, as if to say, _don't you know where you are_? “Quiet, ashmaker,” snapped yet another one of the warriors.

Suki, at the front of the group, looked over her shoulder. “Problem, girls?”

There was a collective murmur of _no, Suki_ , and Suki turned back to watching the wrinkled old firebenders with their stupid hats as they proclaimed a new era to be upon the Fire Nation.

Azula’s stomach was roiling uncomfortably. It was going to be a new era without her, without her father, without anything that she knew. There would just be Zuko, who no one had given the time of day to in a long time. Zuko, whose honor had been burned right off his face.

Maybe this was what it was always going to be. Zuko was the firstborn; he had always been heir-apparent, whether Ozai liked that or not. And Ozai had done the most to bury that line of succession; he’d called the Agni Kai that led to Zuko’s banishment like he’d been waiting years to do so. Maybe it was never going to be Azula on the throne.

It was hard to breathe, surrounded by warriors in their heavy green uniforms and thick white face paint. Azula felt faint. She swayed a little on her feet, only to be jostled again by a barrage of elbows.

“Cut it out!” sneered one of them in an undertone. Azula wanted to sneer right back, but words failed her.

At the front of the temple, the Fire Sages were banging the massive gong to signify the emergence of the new regent. Zuko would be coming through onto the platform momentarily. In the courtyard, Fire Nation subjects and freed war prisoners alike were beginning to cheer. No one had cheered for Azula. No one had ever wanted her, not for their Fire Lord. Maybe not for anything at all.

It was too much. Ozai had groomed her for this role, and he knew it would never be hers. Ursa had turned away from her because as a child, Azula had already wielded far more power than her. It had all been for naught. It was hard to stand. Azula’s head was spinning, her thoughts ringing around her ears with the cheers of the crowd.

Zuko was in full view now, draped in crimson and black and Agni-appointed righteousness.

“Please,” he demurred, waving to his subjects. When had his voice achieved that timbre, in spite of the rasp? “The real hero… is the Avatar.”

Fire Nation coronations were supposed to be sacred, and yet there was Zuko, bringing an outsider into it. An outsider who brought the war to an end, sure, but did no one care that the Fire Nation had _lost_?

Zuko looked taller; older. It almost didn’t matter that there was a scar eating up his face with the way people were whispering his name.

“Today,” he said in that regal voice, “with my coronation, the Hundred Year War is officially over!”

The crowd exploded once more, and Zuko didn’t even seem to _revel_ in it. He just took it.

“I promised my uncle that I would restore the honor of the Fire Nation, and I will.” Zuko vowed, and Azula thought she might be laughing madly. Zuko, the honorless one, the one who was lucky to have been born, to _restore_ honor? To their nation, which wouldn’t even have been on the losing side of the war if it hadn’t been for him?

Maybe she _was_ laughing. A Kyoshi Warrior shoved her, and when she stumbled forward, she was elbowed back by another. Her laugh turned into gasps for air. It was too much.

Zuko was continuing, “The road ahead of us is challenging. A hundred years of fighting has left the world scarred and divided. But with the Avatar’s help, we can get it back on the right path, and begin an era of love and peace.”

Azula wanted to scream to him, _no one will help you. You will be alone. There will be no one but you_. Hadn’t he paid any attention? Didn't he realize that everyone would abandon him too? It wasn’t like Ursa had only left Azula; she’d left Zuko, too. And Ozai had never meant for them to be in power; there were threats both manufactured and organic at every turn. It was too much, too much, too much. 

Before the Fire Sages could come forward with the royal crown, Azula’s knees buckled. She sank to the stone temple floor, her vision spotty. There were toes pressed into her back, knees bumped against her shoulders. She couldn’t stand. She could hardly breathe. It was too much.

Hands were reaching under Azula’s arms, taking a strong grip and hauling her to her feet. Taking her weight on, holding her more than she could hold herself up.

“Come on,” murmured the person holding her. Azula forced her eyes open. It was Suki again.

There wasn’t much Azula could do herself; she was half-carried by Suki through the knot of other Kyoshi Warriors, back into the belly of the temple.

“Where do you need to go?” Suki asked Azula.

Azula wanted to remind Suki that she didn’t really get a say in what was done with her. Instead, she croaked, “Away.”

Somehow they ended up back in the west corridor bedroom. Azula didn’t know how they’d managed to get across the palace with so little resistance. It didn’t matter. Suki shouldered the door open, still bearing Azula’s weight, and lifted her to the bed. Azula crumpled completely on the mattress, sinking into herself.

“Can you say what’s wrong?” Suki asked. She sounded almost concerned. It wasn’t a tone of voice Azula was used to. If someone was speaking to her, it was usually in a tone of deference — or reverence, or _fear_. People certainly didn’t ask her stupid things like _what’s wrong_.

Without any fire in her belly, Azula couldn’t manage words so much as she could mouth them. “It’s too much.”

Suki nodded like that made all the sense in the world. Azula felt a flicker of irritation. Why wasn’t Suki mad? Why wasn’t she poking and prodding and sneering like her warriors? Azula became aware that Suki was holding one of her hands. It just wasn’t right. Why was she being kind?

“Maybe we shouldn’t have taken you to the coronation,” Suki said gently.

Azula ignored that, and instead tried to turn the focus on Suki. “You’re missing the crowning. I thought you were his friend.”

Suki was somehow able to parse out what Azula’s croaked, raspy words meant. She shrugged, not looking away from Azula’s face. “Yes, Zuko is my friend — and you’re his sister. Don’t you think it’s a friendly thing to take care of your friends’ loved ones?”

Azula, a loved one of Zuko’s? What a joke. Didn’t Suki know they’d tried to kill each other two days before? Azula tried to laugh, but what she produced instead was a sob.

Suki’s hand around hers squeezed minutely. She ignored the way Azula was halfway to tears, out of breath and too hoarse to cry. “I’ll get Katara in here when it’s possible, and we’ll heal up your wrists. Okay?”

Azula shook her head, sobered enough to be insistent. “Leave it.”

“Azula, you’re really torn up from the cuffs. It can’t be comfortable.”

“It’s nothing.” _I deserve it_ , she wanted to say churlishly. And, _this is how it would be if things were normal. There aren’t meant to be Water Tribe healers in the Fire Nation Royal Palace_.

Suki raised an unimpressed eyebrow at her. She still held Azula’s hand, careful as someone might hold a newly hatched turtleduck. Turtleducks were something else Ursa had cared for more than Azula. She and Zuko were always going to the pond in the big garden with vegetables fresh from the kitchens. Azula couldn’t do anything to get Ursa’s attention then, not unless she did something violent or destructive — and then, it wasn’t the right kind of attention. It was just further confirmation that Azula was an abomination.

“Why are you crying?” Suki asked softly.

“‘M _not_ ,” Azula informed her, frowning. Honestly, of _all_ the questions to ask…

“Well, why don’t you lay down?” Suki asked. Why did she care?

Azula shrugged. “It doesn’t matter.”

“I’m sure Zuko will come see you later. And Ty Lee already told me she wants to visit.”

Azula scoffed, and it hurt her throat — but that was fine, that was good. “Ty Lee doesn’t even like me anymore. She abandoned me.”

“I don’t know if she sees it that way,” Suki said. But Suki hadn’t _been_ there. She hadn’t had to experience it. Azula just shook her head. She laid back on the bed slowly, leaving her hand in Suki’s until the uncompromising chains on her waist and wrists made her pull away. Still, Suki was crouched by the bed.

“I’ll stay with you.” Suki explained, getting to her feet.

“Why?” Azula rasped.

Suki looked down at Azula like the answer was obvious, and after a heartbeat Azula realized it was: Suki was her prison guard, essentially. But that’s not what Suki said.

Instead, she said, “Because it's the right thing — because I _want_ to.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **the only reason the Kyoshi Warriors are portrayed harshly is because this is Azula's POV; these aren't her friends, these are her enemies who she just had imprisoned all summer. There's absolutely no love lost between the two groups. It's kinda weird to write them as not awesome asskicking heroines, but there's two sides to every coin.
> 
> ok are you guys gagged? i finally posted the Azula POV 😳 aaaaa I've been ready to share her POV for _ages_ ; where I'm at with the rest of the fic it's equally her and Zuko for the most part, though I do lend a lot of time to just. exploring her character. when I first watched ATLA I had no clue I'd love Azula so much.  
> as I'm editing this to post, there's just over 1.1k hits on this little fic of mine and that makes my heart full to bursting ❣️ every interaction this gets literally brightens my day, I can't stress that enough.  
> I'm hoping that my posting schedule won't change much, but as this is going up I'll be having tests and consults done as I've had some health stuff come to light (not 'rona) - I'm going to do everything I can do to post this as consistently as I can through the rest of the year, and I hope you guys will stick around for that 💘
> 
> I'm ISO of a new beta so my current beta can take a well-earned break! You can find more info on that [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/post/633644468542865408/i-am-once-again-in-search-of-a-beta-for-my-fic/). Even if you aren't interested in being a beta, it would be a huge help if you could share that post to help me find a beta as soon as possible.
> 
> You can find me always on my ATLA & LOK bullshit [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/), and you can find my beta Olly [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum) 😊


	9. Arc 1 Part 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ozai's Angels reunite. The dynamic isn't the same as it once was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sitting around the campfire at Ember Island Part 2 except now Zuko is Fire Lord and also Azula is in a waist chain and can't bend 😳

It was hard to say how much time had passed when Azula woke up. There was a tray of food on the table near the bed, meaning that the household staff had been in and out. The coronation had been held exactly at noon, so the tray on the table was either a late lunch or a consolation meal. Azula looked around as much as she could without getting up or moving. There was no one in her line of sight, just the bare room. Slowly, she turned her head and surveyed the rest of the room. And, _ah_ — there was Suki. She was sitting near the partition to the bathtub and chamberpot.

“You didn’t leave.” Azula croaked, and _Agni_ , speaking was a bitch and a half. It felt like snot or blood or something had coagulated in her throat as she laid down, making everything that much more raw.

Suki looked up in an instant, her dark eyes wide. She didn’t make some stupid remark about Azula being awake. She just said, “I told you I’d stay.”

And that was true enough, but Azula was familiar with people only keeping their word if they’d been antagonized into it — or coerced, or asked nicely with some leverage. And even then, there were plenty of stand outs where people hadn’t kept their word. Her mother was one of them.

“You’re not at the party? Celebrating Zuzu’s achievement with all your _friends_?” Azula asked, though it was more like a hiss because her voice simply refused to work.

Suki got to her feet in a fluid motion, but slowly enough that Azula knew it to be intentional. She crossed over to Azula’s bed, stepping more into the light cast by the sconces. “There will be plenty of time to celebrate later. You know better than I do that this won’t be a simple ‘one party’ situation.”

Azula twisted her mouth into a moue and dragged her gaze up Suki’s form and right to the ceiling. “I didn’t get any celebration.”

“No,” Suki agreed. “You were being crowned in the midst of one of the biggest military assaults in the last century, and then when the ceremony was interrupted, you engaged in an Agni Kai with your brother, who was the traditional heir-apparent, and subsequently disqualified yourself from the duel by striking at someone else entirely.”

The matter-of-fact way Suki rattled all of that off had Azula clenching her fists, wishing for the lick of fire between her fingers. “He was banished again. He redirected lightning at our father. He wasn’t the _traditional_ heir.”

“No,” Suki said again, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Nothing about your family has been really traditional.”

Azula couldn’t really argue that. Well, she _could_ , but it wouldn’t be worth it. Surely her generation was the most disgraceful in the history of the Agni-appointed royal family. One child killed in a failed battle, one burnt by his father and stripped of honor, one deposed by said honorless child. What did the fire sages know about an all-knowing, all-powerful god if that god let these things happen to its own mortal vessels?

Suki took Azula’s silence as permission to keep talking. She looked quite comfortable, even still in all that facepaint and the warrior uniform. Comfortable to be in a small bedroom with Azula in chains.

“I think Mai and Ty Lee are coming by later. There’s things to attend to, of course, with their positions in regard to Zuko. But they said they want to see you.”

“What if I don’t want to see them?” Azula asked petulantly.

Suki shrugged. “I guess you’re a captive audience.”

“That’s a bad joke,” Azula rasped, looking away from Suki and back to the ceiling.

Suki chuckled, girlish and relaxed. “I guess I’ve been spending too much time with Sokka.”

Azula wrinkled her nose. “The Water Tribe savage?”

There was an edge to Suki’s voice when she replied. “Yeah, that’s the one. What, you’ve got a problem with him?”

It was Azula’s turn to shrug. “You could do better, that’s all.”

The bed creaked a little as Suki leaned forward. “Sokka’s a lot more than meets the eye, you know—”

“I _know_ ,” Azula interrupted. “I don’t discount him for being a non-bender like other people might. There’s a reason everyone on the Avatar’s team looked to him as their leader. I always tried to fight him personally, when I could.”

“Hmm,” Suki hummed, sitting back again. “Then what’s your problem with him?”

Azula rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say I had one. I just said I thought you could do better.”

Suki was quiet after that, as if considering Azula’s words. Good riddance. Azula wasn’t about to break down the ways Suki, the head of the Earth Kingdom’s most elite warrior group, was better than some boy from the South Pole. Sure, he was devoted to her — or _whatever_. Azula still thought Suki could do better.

When there was a knock at the door, both Suki and Azula turned expectantly. Azula opened her mouth to invite the person in, only to remember she had no standing in the household anymore. Instead, Suki was the one who called for whoever was on the other side of the door to enter.

It wasn’t those traitors Azula used to call friends; instead, it was one of the servants she recognized well. Aki was relatively young, not long out of schooling when she had come to work at the palace. Accordingly, she’d become one of Azula’s retainers. Now, she bowed politely to Suki, never mind that she wasn’t even Fire Nation. She pointedly didn’t look at Azula.

“I’m here to collect the tray from lunch,” Aki explained.

“Oh, I don’t think Azula ate,” Suki said, turning to Azula. 

Azula didn’t know when she’d last eaten, but she really didn’t have an appetite. “No. I don’t want to eat.”

Suki sighed. “You’re going to have to eat at some point, or we’ll force feed you. Don’t think we won’t.”

Aki walked over to the table to collect the untouched food, still looking everywhere but at Azula. With Aki so obviously unsettled, Azula knew she could elicit some response from her by doing very little, even if Aki wanted to ignore her. She always was quite good at making the servants look alive. Azula jerked her arm against her waist chain, making it pop loudly. Unsurprisingly, Aki jumped. Her dark amber eyes were big when Azula caught her gaze.

Aki had been taught proper etiquette; she dropped her eyes immediately and dipped her head in a small approximation of the bow Azula would usually be awarded. “Princess Azula.”

“Aki,” Azula greeted, and she tried to sound sincere. That was something her voice was never good at doing, even when she could speak louder than a hoarse whisper. “Aren’t you going to ask how I am?”

“I—” Aki stammered, looking past Azula to Suki.

Azula whipped her head around to look at the Kyoshi Warrior, challenging. Suki looked impassive. 

After a moment of staring each other down, Suki turned to Aki and said, “I don’t care if you want to say hello or whatever, but don’t, like, start talking politics.” 

Aki dipped her head again and looked back to Azula, boldly looking her in the eyes like she never had before. “We’ve been worried about you, Princess Azula.”

Well, that was surprising. “What do you mean?”

Aki looked a little hesitant, dropping her gaze again to the tray. “The other girls and I. We didn’t know what would happen after the Agni Kai. If you were injured, or even alive.”

Azula blinked. “I didn’t think any of you liked me enough to care.”

“You’re our princess!” Aki exclaimed, looking up sharply. “Of course we care about you.”

“Enough to get me out of here?” Azula asked, raising an eyebrow. It was more a jest than anything; she knew there was no way one of the maids was going to risk her life for a prisoner like herself. Not one who had treated them the way Azula had treated them.

Aki cut a wide-eyed glance toward Suki, who had one of her own eyebrows raised. “I — I can’t. I’m so sorry, Princess.”

Azula laid back down. It wasn’t like she expected anything, but her stomach still sank. It made her feel like a child; small and alone. “That’s okay, Aki,” she whispered, and for once, she meant it.

Ty Lee and Mai arrived late, but still before the summer sunset. It had to be sometime in the evening; a servant had already come with dinner. It wasn’t Aki again; it was someone different, no doubt at the head of household’s insistence. The girl had looked at Azula warily and given her a wide berth, as if Azula might lean over and bite her. Word always traveled fast in the palace.

Suki left when Ty Lee and Mai arrived. “I’ve got to catch Zuko and congratulate him,” Suki explained with her hand on Ty Lee’s shoulder in a familiar way. “I didn’t get to see the rest of the coronation.”

Mai had the flicker of a smile on her face, which was perhaps the most surprising thing to Azula. Since when did Mai smile for dirt girls? Mai said to Suki, “Take your time. You deserve a break.”

When Suki chuckled her agreement, it was like a knife in Azula’s stomach. Stupidly. Immediately Azula was upset at herself for even _being_ upset. It wasn’t like Suki had ever cared for her in any way. Suki was her _warden_ , the keeper of her keys. Any instance of kindness was a fluke — and honestly, overly familiar of her. In _fact_ , Azula told herself she didn’t want any Earth Kingdom peasants touching her at all.

Mai was dressed in her finest clothes, as befitting the daughter of a high ranking government official and the consort of the new Fire Lord. That was, if she and Zuko had reconciled. 

Azula had always reveled in teasing Mai about her crush on Zuko, and Zuko about his stubborn devotion to Mai in return, but as they had all gotten older, the relationship seemed something else entirely. Like it spanned further than a simple romantic partnership. Well, that was just as well. Political matches were more important, anyway. Azula couldn’t quite figure out the dynamic between her once-friend and older brother, but perhaps she just didn’t care enough to.

Ty Lee wasn’t in dress clothes at all. She was painted in the red and white of a Kyoshi Warrior, even wearing the Earth Kingdom green — a total affront to the country she was born to. It was one thing to masquerade as a Kyoshi Warrior, and another thing entirely to defect like she had.

Azula felt like her insides were burning: black and acrid from an electric fire, tinged blue from the flames that evaded her fingertips but ate her up just fine.

Mai’s face was impassive. She crossed her arms, heavy sodegochi sleeves pulling toward the black tiled floor, no doubt laden with stiletto knives and razors. It wasn’t like the palace guards would even think of checking her for weapons; they never had. It was probably a national security hazard, letting someone so heavily and consistently armed so close to the Fire Lord. 

Ozai never would have permitted it, not unless he had enough leverage to ensure that the person in question would never turn on him. Azula, if she still had Mai and Ty Lee by her side, if what had happened at the Boiling Rock had never happened, wouldn’t have thought about the liability. They’d made it clear enough, though, how they felt about her: how expendable their friendship was.

Ty Lee was standing a little behind Mai. She’d almost always deferred to Mai, even though she was physically stronger — and much more palatable to most people they encountered. Azula had always liked that her friends put people off, though — one stony-faced, one too bubbly to be true. Always flanking her, her shadows, her confidantes.

In the end, though, they’d thrown it all away.

For a long minute, the room was silent. Azula sat in her disheveled, stale palace worker’s robes and faced her former friends in their finery. 

Azula was never good at being patient, though. She sighed and rolled her shoulders like she was sitting in a war meeting and getting bored. “Well,” she rasped, “why did you even want to come if all you were going to do is stare?”

Ty Lee immediately opened her mouth to speak, but Mai didn’t let her. She leaned forward, chin jutted out, which would be menacing to anyone else.

“I don’t even know what to say to you,” Mai ground out.

Azula shrugged, raising her hands all she could in a pantomime of surrender. “I’m a captive audience,” she said, reusing Suki’s — or _Sokka’s_ , really — bad joke. “You can say whatever you’d like, and all I can do is sit here and take it.”

Mai huffed a laugh, bitter and cold as the South Pole. “The slipper’s on the other foot for once. Now you get a taste of what it was like being around you.”

Well, that stung. Mai had chosen her words specifically to barb. Azula raised an eyebrow, determined not to let any emotion show on her face. She was good at this, after all. “Now that you’ve actually been to prison, do you stand by your word?”

Mai looked like she wanted to spit, or better yet, throw a knife. “You know, maybe prison was _better_. There were actually some decent people in there — decent people _you_ locked up. Oh yeah, and you weren’t there.”

Azula blinked. Really, the degree of vitriol was staggering, even for Mai. “Oh, Mai, are you and Zuko having problems again?”

This time, Mai _did_ throw a knife. The movement was so quick and unexpected that Azula didn’t even flinch. The stiletto went right over her shoulder, close enough that it ripped right through the linen robes Azula wore, and still stuck in the screen behind her with a _twang_. Mai was an excellent mark; she had intentionally missed striking _skin_ , but the act was a clear threat. Azula wanted to be outraged, but she didn’t have any right to be anymore. She was a prisoner; she was at their mercy.

Ty Lee stepped around Mai, finally, her hand on Mai’s arm. She looked conflicted in that pretty, delicate way of hers that made boys fall at her feet and adults stumble over themselves to accommodate.

“ _Azula_ ,” Ty Lee began in a heavily placating tone, “we’re not here to fight.”

Both Mai and Azula opened their mouths to speak at the same time, made eye contact, and shut their mouths. Ty Lee was waiting, though, so after a tense moment, Azula said, “Then what are you here for?”

Ty Lee crept a little closer, still giving Azula a wide berth. Surely word had spread that Azula couldn’t bend. Both Ty Lee and Mai knew, though, that Azula was just as proficient in martial arts. Maybe they just couldn’t see the shackles eating up her wrists for what they were.

“We just want to talk. To see you,” Ty Lee said.

“It took you forever to get here,” Azula replied drily.

“Yeah,” Mai interjected, scowling, “you had us in _fucking prison_.”

“Well you shouldn’t have betrayed me!” Azula tried to shout, managing instead only a strangled sort of gasp. “You knew what the consequences would be!”

“There’ve always been too many consequences to being friends with you.” Mai said in a low voice.

Ty Lee’s painted eyebrows were pulled close together. “Azula… we didn’t really have a choice.”

“You _always_ have a choice.”

“Not when we’re constantly backed into a corner,” Mai snapped.

Ty Lee was more direct. “Azula, what was happening was _wrong_. It was really, really wrong. The question became less of keeping you happy and more about what the right move for the safety and wellbeing of the Fire Nation would be.”

Oh, that was rich. Azula moved to cross her arms and instead ended up scraping open multiple scabs on her wrists. She was so angry — anger was certainly what she was feeling, even if it tasted different — that the pain didn’t even register. “You mean to tell me that betraying the _Fire Princess_ of the _Fire Nation_ was better than standing by her?”

“Yes,” Ty Lee said simply, “that’s it.”

“How could you—” Azula started, only to be cut off by Mai making a sharp slashing motion with her arm.

“How could _you_?” Mai thundered. “You pushed us until we had no choice! You knew I was never going to let you kill Zuko — _never_ . Never! And then you tried to kill _me_ , and what was Ty Lee supposed to do? Stand there and _let_ you?”

Azula felt cold. Her inner fire was failing her again. “I wasn’t going to _kill_ you,” she said. How could Mai even think that?

“Yes you _were_!” Mai argued, reaching a pitch uncharacteristic for her low register. Azula realized belatedly that her voice sounded so strange because she was holding back tears. What had happened to change her apathetic friend into someone with such strong emotions?

“Azula,” Ty Lee said, and Azula wanted to _shriek_ at the way Ty Lee kept saying her name, as if determined to lock her into the conversation every few minutes. It reminded her of the way her mother would hold her chin and chastise her as a child. 

“We couldn’t be complicit in your self destruction any longer. We went along while the war was wearing our country out around us, but — we couldn’t watch you hurt yourself, too.”

That made absolutely no sense, none at all. “I don’t even know what you’re saying,” Azula said.

As if she could no longer bear to look at her, Mai turned away from Azula, squeezing her temples with her hand spread across her forehead, thumb on one temple and fingers on the other. It was a very Zuko-like gesture. 

Ty Lee came closer still, so close that Azula could see tears in her stupid gray eyes. “Azula, you’ve been… _unhinged_. After Zuko left… you started to fall apart.”

“Ridiculous!” Azula cried. “I’ve _never_ needed Zuko. He’s nothing to me!”

“You’re wrong and we all know it,” Mai said, her back still to Azula. “He was all that kept you together.”

“He was just a buffer between my father and me,” Azula said sharply, automatically.

Ty Lee actually _pointed_ at her. “See! That’s exactly my point!”

Azula scowled, went back over her words, and immediately found where she’d put her foot in her mouth. “Wait, that’s not what I meant—”

“It may not have been what you meant, but it’s the truth,” Mai said, finally turning back to look at Azula again. “Your dad is deranged. You were starting to live less and less for yourself and more just to please him so… so he wouldn’t hurt you like he hurt Zuko.”

Azula was breathing hard, even just sitting there. Oh, if she’d still had her fire, the room would be coming down around them. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Ty Lee was so close that when she crouched down, she was right at the edge of the bed. The motion made Azula think of the way one might approach a wild animal. _I’m a wild animal._ She shoved the thought away. 

Ty Lee said, “You may not have remembered all of it — which is normal; the brain and body sometimes can’t hold onto all that — but we were _there_. Growing up, before your mom disappeared, all of it. We were there, too.”

It was too much to continue looking at either Ty Lee or Mai, so Azula looked up at the ceiling instead. Again she said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes we _do_ ,” Mai said, and she sounded closer. She sounded as close as Ty Lee was. Azula kept her gaze fixed on the ceiling. 

Mai continued, “We were raised to be perfect, obedient children. You and me specifically — we had our fathers’ careers to worry about. And so we were always in the spotlight. They gave us unreachable, ridiculous aspirations and told us there would be severe consequences if we didn’t do the impossible. For me, that meant shutting down and shutting up. For you, that meant contorting yourself in crazy positions because you were so terrified of what would happen if you didn’t.”

Azula’s eyes were stinging, because at that point her whole body felt like it was against her. No fire, no voice, and tears in her eyes. She wanted to insist again that Mai was wrong, but words were hard to get out of her burning throat.

“You and I both learned not to go against our parents’ wills. What they said was law. But the thing is that they were wrong. They were wrong for believing in this stupid war, and the ethnic cleansing of the other nations, and for not loving us.”

 _My parents_ _treated_ _me just fine,_ Azula wanted to snap, but she wasn’t sure that would be the truth. Instead, she tried to deflect. “So what, you’re all buddy-buddy with the _Avatar_ and his _friends_ now?”

“I mean…” Ty Lee said, breaking her silence. 

Mai countered, “So what if we’re not all trying to kill each other anymore? The war is _over_.”

Azula finally dragged her eyes down from the ceiling. Mai still had her arms crossed just like Azula knew she would, and she was standing next to Ty Lee right by the bed. Close enough to touch, even, if Azula hadn’t been in chains.

When Azula didn’t say anything, Mai repeated, “Our parents were _wrong_. And now we have a chance to move past them and heal.”

“I never knew you had so many words in you,” Azula managed, because she didn’t trust herself to do anything more than deflect.

Mai scoffed, throwing her hands up in the air. She didn’t sound exactly angry, just disappointed. “Spirits, can’t you act like a damn _human_ for once?”

“It’s okay,” Ty Lee said softly. Azula didn’t know which of them she was trying to soothe.

“Did you ever stop to consider Ty Lee?” Mai asked, evidently hitting a second wind.

“What?” Azula and Ty Lee both asked.

Mai gestured sharply to Ty Lee, who was still crouching. “You know, when we were little, Ty Lee essentially had to choose between her family and you? Being friends with the Fire Lord’s daughter was a prominent position to be in — one that meant she had to distance herself from her family. They’re _immigrants_ , Azula. You _know_ how immigrants are treated in the Fire Nation, _especially_ in Caldera City.”

Azula bit the inside of her cheek. Of course she’d always known that Ty Lee didn’t have the same background as herself and Mai, but she’d never really considered that she might not be from the Fire Nation at all. But Ty Lee was nothing like people said immigrants were like; she wasn’t a dirt girl or an icy savage. She was… simply Ty Lee.

Ty Lee looked up at Azula, her eyes big. “It’s true,” she said in a very small voice. “I’ve been worried my whole life, with all my sisters and my parents living here. I’ve never not wanted to be your friend, but it made us all much more… _visible_. When I joined the circus, it was because I wanted to break out from being part of the ‘matched set’ of my sisters, but also to put some distance between the limelight and myself. If I wasn’t at your right hand, Azula, then there wouldn’t be scrutiny on my family being… not Fire Nation.”

“That just doesn’t make sense,” Azula said. 

“Doesn’t it?” Ty Lee prodded, tilting her head. How could she be so calm, discussing a matter like this?

Azula closed her eyes so she wouldn’t have to look at her former friend. “I don’t know.”

When the silence dragged on a little too long, Mai sighed noisily. She was always good for a noisy sigh. “Let’s go, Ty Lee.”

Azula’s eyes snapped open, and panic struck her faster than she could school it off her face. “Wait!”

Mai turned to her with an unimpressed eyebrow even as Ty Lee got gracefully to her feet. “What?”

“I — I just—” Azula stammered. “I don’t want to be alone.”

Ty Lee did the unthinkable and smiled at her. It was like seeing the sun through clouds, even under all that horrible face paint. “You won’t be alone, Azula. We’re not leaving forever. We just can’t stay here all night.”

“You… you’ll come back?” Azula asked, and she could scarcely believe the words coming out of her own mouth.

Mai rolled her eyes, but Ty Lee reached out for Azula, and though Azula’s first instinct was to flinch away, she let Ty Lee rest her fingertips on her arm. “We’ll come back.”

“Okay,” Azula agreed softly. She felt like the aftermath of a house fire, with all her insides burnt out to leave an unsteady, blackened shell.

Mai sighed again and turned on her heel to the door. Ty Lee was more gracious, dipping her head in an approximation of the kind of curtsey that Azula used to be automatically awarded. And that was it; they were going to leave Azula to her empty room once more.

Before she was out the door, though, Mai did turn over her shoulder to look Azula in the eye. And for a moment, Azula could breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and I will pepper in the headcanon that Ty Lee is of Air Nomad descent....
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! The Azula POV will continue through to chapter 10, which will conclude this arc 😊 Let me know in the comments or on tumblr what you thought of this chapter, and if there's anything you want to see! Who knows, I might take your suggestion! 👀
> 
> I'm ISO of a new beta so my current beta, Olly, can take a well-earned break! You can find more info on that [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/post/633644468542865408/i-am-once-again-in-search-of-a-beta-for-my-fic/). Even if you aren't interested in being a beta, it would be a huge help if you could share that post to help me find a beta as soon as possible ❣️
> 
> You can find me always on my ATLA & LOK bullshit [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/), and you can find Olly [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum)


	10. Arc 1 Part 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The day isn't over - after a wash up, the rest of the Royal Family comes to check in on Azula.

Katara was back at Azula’s door that night. Suki was behind her. Both of them were disheveled in a way that told of dancing and eating and being around a great many people. Azula could smell a hint of rice wine beneath their perfumes and the silage of spiced meat. She, personally, wasn’t a fan of alcohol of any kind. She liked being in control of herself at all times, no matter what. It was why the loss of her inner fire was so upsetting.

“What are you doing here?” Azula deadpanned. After Ty Lee and Mai had left, she had spent a long time staring up at the ceiling and trying to process all that had been said. It had left her feeling more than a little raw.

Suki offered a small smile, and Azula pointedly averted her gaze. Still, Suki strode into the room and stood with her hands on her hips. “It’s bath time.”

“What? No.”

Katara rolled her eyes. She didn’t seem as uptight as usual. Azula wanted to make a rude comment about it, but held her tongue instead. Katara said, “I won’t be able to sleep if I know you’re still in day-old robes — and not to mention that your hands need to have another healing session.”

Azula wrinkled her nose. “Then just don’t think of me. Agni, can’t you treat me like a normal prisoner and leave me alone?”

“You’re not a normal prisoner,” Suki said in a sing-song. “You’re the Fire Princess.”

 _What’s a Fire Princess without any fire?_ Azula didn’t think there had ever been one before — if there had, that person was buried deep in the family histories that were painstakingly taught across the Fire Nation. Azula hunched her shoulders, inadvertently protecting her stomach, her dried-up sea of chi. 

Suki and Katara just wanted to stomp into her room, laughing and radiating ease, and mock her. The thing was, they _could_. What could Azula do to stop them, to put them in place?

“Fuck off,” Azula rasped, flexing her fingers in lieu of being able to generate any fire. There wasn’t any real venom in her voice, or malice in the swear she had been schooled against using her whole life; she told herself that this was because all her venom was sapped up just like her fire.

Katara paused in reaching for Azula. “Well, if you’re serious that you don’t want us to help you get bathed and changed, we can leave.”

Suki nodded, her thick bob of auburn hair bouncing around her face. “We don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

Azula sighed and directed her gaze to the ceiling. Spirits, what was she doing? She raised her burned hands as much as she could, palms down, so one of the other girls could take them. “Do what you will.”

Bathing Azula was a much quicker process without all the Agni Kai grime or Zuko to dredge up memories of the past. After a quick healing session for them, Suki held Azula’s hands like she had the first time, resting their hands on the edge of the tub while Katara used her waterbending to sluice water over Azula’s back. The hand holding was under the pretense of keeping Azula from bending, even though they all knew Azula presently couldn’t. Maybe they’d heard of her martial arts prowess. Azula told herself that it was only her superior self control keeping her from breaking Suki’s hands or wrists.

“Do you shampoo your hair daily?” Katara asked idly, using her bending to soak Azula’s hair while keeping the water from running down her face.

“Do you not?” Azula countered.

Katara actually chuckled. “I’m from the South Pole, remember? We don’t exactly want to be walking around with wet hair all the time. And then I was traveling the world with the boys…”

“Of course,” Azula said flatly. “Silly me.”

Suki squeezed Azula’s hands, looking over to Katara. “I’m sure the princess is a deep-conditioning type.”

Even though Suki wasn’t wrong, Azula still felt a twinge of irritation. “Don’t try to _know_ me.”

Katara and Suki gave her twin looks of surprise, eyebrows raised and mouths opened. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that Azula was literally sitting naked in a tub, and still raw from the chains she wore — not exactly in a position to give orders or make demands. Azula shut her eyes and stuck her nose up. She wasn’t going to be goaded into being friendly. These were her enemies, after all.

“Okay,” Suki said after a moment. “You’ve got it.”

The rest of the bath went quickly after that. Katara waterbent away the water clinging to Azula’s skin when she was helped out of the tub. Azula had to admit, it was helpful having a waterbender as a bath attendant. Suki produced a fresh set of robes for Azula; these weren’t service robes, but plain black silk pajamas. It was an upgrade of sorts — almost a friendly gesture.

The chains went back on when Azula was clothed, but not before Katara produced a blob of water and offered to heal the broken, bruised skin wrapping around Azula’s wrists.

Azula flatly refused. “Put that water away, I don’t need to be healed any more.”

“Will you let me at least wrap your arms?” Katara asked. She had that mothering voice on, the one she no doubt learned to adopt because her own mother was dead. 

Azula wanted to tell her to fall off a pier or trip into a volcano; instead she looked away and said, “Whatever.”

Suki kept a hold on Azula’s waist chain while Katara quickly wrapped strips of gauze around Azula’s arms. Azula thought of three different ways she could break the hold, engage in hand-to-hand-combat, and make a move for the unlocked bedroom door. She stayed stock still instead, tuning into the way the bruises and torn skin ached with the steady pressure of the wraps. 

That was what she was all over: a dull ache.

Before leaving, Katara and Suki stood shoulder to shoulder over Azula and lectured her.

“We know you’re not eating the meals brought to you,” Suki said.

“And there’s no way you’re drinking enough,” Katara added.

“What do you care?” Azula ground out.

Katara rolled her eyes. “I mean, fine — you can dehydrate yourself to death for all I care. It’s just not a nice way to go. It’s in _your_ best interest to make an effort.”

“If you need to have your chains off to eat comfortably, one of us will come in and do that for you.” Suki said.

“I’m not a child,” Azula snapped as best she could.

“No, but as you’ve been fond of pointing out, you _are_ a prisoner,” Suki said.

“And even after all of the shit you did to us,” Katara said, “we’re not going to let you rot in here. You’ve got redeeming qualities.”

Spirits, what komodo rhino shit. Azula huffed, “No I _don’t_. Haven’t you heard? I’m completely mad. I’m beside myself; I’m a monster. A danger.”

Suki looked at her with one eyebrow raised. She sounded serious when she said, “Really? I just see a teenage girl.”

Azula thought she was done with visitors for the night. It had been a long day for everyone but her, starting early with the preparation for Zuko’s coronation. For her, the time passed silently and without indication. She had no timepiece, no window to see the position of the sun. She knew it was late though. Even with the absence of her bending, she was a fire bender by birth. She could feel the absence of the sun somewhere deep in her bones.

She was laid back on the bed where she spent all her time, wet hair matted under her shoulders, staring at the ceiling when the knock came at the door. 

“I hope it’s an assassin come to kill me,” Azula said as loud as her damaged voice would allow her to. 

The door opened, and in walked none other than her brother, followed by her uncle. Azula slowly sat up.

“Not an assassin, sorry,” Zuko said, not sounding sorry at all. He was still in his regalia from the coronation — even the breastplate, which Azula knew weighed a ton. His hair was slipping out from its topknot, though, framing his sharp-angled face with dark strands. It made him look soft — and young. 

Iroh was dressed familiarly, in the modified uniform of a general. It was as if he’d never begged his way across the Earth Kingdom in rags, or been locked in a Fire Nation prison. He had a topknot, too, even though his hairline was pushed back to the crown of his head. He gave Azula a warm smile. “Hello, my niece.”

Azula’s jaw knotted and unknotted. She didn’t know how to approach conversation with Iroh; she hadn’t been very civil in their last interactions, but now it was in her best interest to be decent. “Why are you here so late?”

“You’re my sister,” Zuko said, as if she might’ve miraculously forgotten. “It was important to me to see you on this day.”

“What, you want to rub the crown in my face, _Fire Lord_?”

Zuko’s face twitched at the title, even though he had no doubt been addressed that way all day — all night. _He had better get used to a lifetime of it_ , Azula thought. Zuko approached the bed and actually sat on the edge of it without preamble. Azula felt a stab of irritation; she’d cultivated years of intimidation to keep people from being familiar with her, and the moment she lost her bending that was all lost.

“I was thinking about going to see Father, actually,” Zuko said softly. “Not to do anything productive. Just to yell – to _gloat_ I guess. But nothing good would’ve come of that. So I decided to come see you.”

Azula blinked. Well, it was nice that he thought she was a better option than Ozai. Azula wasn’t sure she would have acted the same way if she was in his place.

“It has been some time, Princess Azula,” Iroh said, coming closer and more into the light. The time he’d been in prison hadn’t been kind to him; his face was more haggard than Azula remembered. Maybe that was just age, though. He was thinner than she remembered — where was _Uncle Fatso?_ She thought about asking that very question, just to see if she could get a rise out of him. 

“Time doesn’t mean much in here,” Azula informed her family members. “It’s all nothing.”

“You’re not going to be in here forever,” Zuko reminded her. The candlelight hit his mismatched eyes, the startling gold and the milky burnt iris. The gold was the exact color of Ozai’s eyes. On Zuko, it wasn’t unsettling like it was on their father. “I told you that.”

“Time doesn’t mean much in here,” Azula repeated.

“I’m told you were at the coronation this morning,” Zuko said. Iroh turned to walk around the bed, headed to the partitioned-off back of the room. Azula followed him with her eyes before looking back to her brother.

“Some of it,” she said. She didn’t know how to explain the way she’d fallen apart in the circle of Kyoshi Warriors — and moreover didn’t _want_ to.

“Suki said…” Zuko’s face crumpled into a frown for a moment, but was just as quickly smoothed out and neutral. “Well, I’m glad you were there. Thank you, Azula.”

Azula flexed her fingers like that might bring her fire back. She fixed her eyes on a point over Zuko’s shoulder. Looking directly at him made her feel funny. “It’s not every day that the new Fire Lord is crowned.”

Zuko had a tiny, tiny smile. It was so foreign on his face that Azula almost did a double-take, dragging her eyes back to his. “I guess you’re right.”

Iroh came wandering back around the screens. When Azula narrowed her eyes at him, he raised his hand — and the hairbrush clutched in his fist.

“I thought I could help,” Iroh explained.

Oh.

Zuko’s small smile got a little bigger. “Once, when Uncle and I were living in Ba Sing Se, I somehow managed to get a date. I didn’t want to go, but Jin was persuasive and Uncle insisted I get out. Uncle decided to help me with my hair… it was ridiculous. The amount of tonic we used… My hair has never been so flat and smooth. And _middle-parted_ , oh man.”

Iroh chuckled. “You looked _good_ , Nephew!”

Zuko looked at him so adoringly that Azula could feel her brain frying. She knew she’d never looked at a family member, much less an adult, that fondly. Not in recent memory, at least. And if she _had_ been fond of someone — that someone was sitting right there next to her in the crown.

“The first thing Jin did was mess it up,” Zuko continued. The names meant nothing to Azula. It was like a fever dream.

Iroh shrugged. “Who knows, maybe that was the whole point.”

Zuko blinked. “Did you make me look so stiff and boring on purpose?”

Azula decided to remind them she was in the room. “What, it’s not like that’s hard to do, Zuzu. It could’ve been an accident.”

Iroh held the hairbrush up like a shield in front of Azula. “What do you think, Princess Azula?”

Azula considered the hairbrush and her uncle’s kind face. She couldn’t remember someone asking to care for her like this. She thought maybe her mother might’ve at one point, but a greater part of her mind said that that was wishful thinking. “I _guess_.”

She scooted to sit at the edge of the bed, her back to the rest of the room, effectively next to Zuko though they faced opposite directions. It was an incredibly vulnerable position, but there was some peace in surrendering control so completely. 

Iroh’s hands were gentle on Azula’s head. He had long hair, himself; Azula wasn’t worried that he’d rip the brush through her fine hair. It was customary for men, especially in the ruling class, of the Fire Nation to grow their hair out. If her mother had never been one to idly comb Azula’s hair, her father could’ve. 

The thought of spending time like that with his children probably never even crossed Ozai’s mind.

“So what?” Azula asked, looking sideways at her brother. “Are the Avatar and his friends going to take up residence in the palace and rule alongside you?”

Something like sadness, maybe desperation, maybe resignation, flickered across Zuko’s face. He was just as good as Azula in schooling his emotions, though. “No,” he said. “Everyone has places to be. Life hasn’t stopped moving just because the war is over. I can’t ask everyone to stick around just for me. There’s work to be done.”

“I guess,” Azula said. She rolled the new knowledge around in her mind. That meant Zuko was going to be at the helm of the country all on his own. Was that even _allowed_? The cabinet members were going to eat him up. “Uncle, you’re going, too?”

Iroh parted Azula’s hair and held a section of it up to brush the under layer, which was still quite damp from her bath. He didn’t say anything about the jagged ends or the missing chunks from Azula’s own attempt at doing her hair, days before. 

It was a moment before he answered. “I am returning to Ba Sing Se. I have a tea shop there called the Jasmine Dragon; it is where I am retiring.”

“You’re going to _leave_ Zuko?” Azula asked, the words tumbling past her lips before she could think to stop them.

“I’ll be okay, Azula,” Zuko said. His uninjured eye was wide with surprise, though he kept it out of his voice.

“I am confident that Zuko will do a fine job here without me. Though I will always be ready to come if I’m needed.”

Azula hummed, mulling over the information. “I guess that’s alright,” she finally said.

Iroh was, from the feel of it, sectioning Azula’s hair to braid. Braids weren’t common styles in the Fire Nation; the extent of Azula’s familiarity with them was Ty Lee. That made sense now with the information Azula had been given just in the hours before. She didn’t say anything, letting Iroh do what he wanted.

“Azula,” Zuko said, pulling her attention back to him. He had turned slightly to face her more head-on. “I’m sending you to Ba Sing Se with Uncle.”

Azula blinked, then blinked again. _He’s what?_ “You’re _what?_ ”

From the consistent movement of Iroh’s hands in her hair, Azula could tell that he knew. There was no flicker of surprise. So this was why they’d both come to see her so late: to deliver her fate. All at once, she was angry. More than that, though, she was confused.

Zuko pressed his lips together, studying Azula intently. She recognized that look on his face. She had seen it often when they were younger, when he was trying to anticipate Ozai’s next words, his next move.

“I don’t want to throw you in prison. I don’t think you belong there. The other option that’s been brought to light is perhaps placing you in an institution to heal.”

“A… like a place for crazy people?”

Zuko’s steady gaze was answer enough. Azula’s frown deepened.

He said, “I think you’re hurt, but I don’t know if that’s the right move. I think you might fight more, do more damage, in a place like that.”

Azula thought about that. She tried to picture the kind of facility Zuko was talking about. She knew they existed in the Fire Nation — in Caldera City, even. They were something mentioned every now and then when she was at the Royal Academy for Girls. She didn’t know much about the kind of people put away in places like that, but she got the impression that they were completely out of their minds, or severely damaged in some way. Was that her?

“So… you want me to go to the Earth Kingdom?”

Zuko dipped his head in a nod. “With Uncle to guide you.”

Azula narrowed her eyes. “What if I decide to fight?”

Behind her, Iroh chuckled. “With all due respect, Princess Azula,” he said, still braiding her hair, “I was your brother’s only chaperone for three years.”

“He’s never been able to bend like me,” Azula countered.

“You’re doing a lot of bending now, are you?” Iroh asked, though not unkindly. He had a point, and it stung.

“I trained in non-bending arts like you never had to, Azula,” Zuko pointed out. “More rigorous martial arts, and swordsmanship with Master Piandao.”

“Because you were trying to be as good at something as I am at bending,” Azula said, meaning it to be a jab at him. Selfishly, she wanted him to feel some pinprick of the discomfort she was dealing with. She wanted to break his easy façade.

Only, Zuko simply nodded calmly again. “Yes, you’re right. That’s exactly why.”

Iroh was finished with Azula’s braid. He tied the end with a piece of cord unwound from the handle of the hairbrush and flipped the long end of the braid over Azula’s shoulder. She looked down and sideways at it. It was done with five strands, more complicated than the simple three-strand braid Ty Lee had once tried to teach her.

“What if my bending comes back in the middle of the night and I burn down the tea shop?” Azula asked. She turned around to sit facing forward on the bed, now that her hair was done.

Iroh ignored the improbability of that situation and nodded, coming around to stand next to Zuko where she could see him. “Then the tea shop burns,” he said, “which would be sad, but not the end of the world. Many things rise just fine from ash. And, my niece, you should remember there is a reason why I am called the Dragon of the West. Not to mention that I did break myself out of prison not too long ago. I am not some weak old man.”

Azula narrowed her eyes. _Alright_ , she thought. _He has a point_. “What if I run away?”

Iroh took his hands from his sleeves to spread them wide. “And where would you go?”

“I could… I could find sympathizers of my father’s. I could get involved in some kind of resistance.”

Zuko had a flicker of something like fear cross his face. He squared his shoulders and it disappeared. “You’re a princess. You don’t know how to survive on the run, not really.”

“And you do?” Azula shot back. 

He blinked at her. Of course he knew how, and Azula regretted asking. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“You don’t know what _I’m_ capable of,” Azula told him.

Zuko actually glanced back at Iroh, as if sharing some inside joke. It immediately made Azula feel like an outsider; irritation flared with the absence of fire inside her chest. “I know you better than you think, Azula.”

“So you’re just going to take off these chains and ship me off to a tea shop?” Azula said a little desperately. _Make it make sense_ , she thought.

Zuko shrugged. “That’s about it, yeah.”

“What am I supposed to do in a _tea shop_ ? I’m the _Fire Princess_.”

Iroh chuckled. “Well, you serve tea.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that's this first arc done 😳 What did you think? 
> 
> I've been _so_ happy to write this - I started out not wanting to write fic for ATLA, but this came to me and I wrote 9 pages longhand in my journal right away. I just wanted to share my ideas for an Azula Redemption/transition of Fire Nation power so badly. Any and all comments and notes left on this work have been such a boon to me, and I treasure all of them 💘 I despair sometimes because I'm afraid my story isn't "good enough" but knowing it's been enjoyed by anyone at all is such a balm to my heart. 
> 
> I'm taking a short break to get the second arc ready, but I hope to be posting again sometime in December! Can you believe we're halfway through November already? I can't 🥴 I'm getting some health stuff sorted atm (I'll be getting an MRI when this goes up) but I'm not intending for that to impact my editing or posting when the fic comes back. 
> 
> I'm ISO of a new beta so my current beta, Olly, can take a well-earned break! You can find more info on that [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/post/633644468542865408/i-am-once-again-in-search-of-a-beta-for-my-fic/). Even if you aren't interested in being a beta, it would be a huge help if you could share that post to help me find a beta as soon as possible ❣️
> 
> You can find me always on my ATLA & LOK bullshit [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/), and you can find Olly [here](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum)


	11. Arc 2 Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A day in the life for Zuko, now that he's properly Fire Lord.
> 
> Azula deals with plans that have been made _for_ her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for zuko-typical angst

Zuko had a new personal guard, one picked out by Iroh. Her name was Ming. Zuko was used to being surrounded by guards who were old, shifty-eyed men picked out by Ozai or Ozai’s advisors. It was refreshing to have someone so viscerally different than that. 

Ming was obviously formidable, though. She was taller than Zuko and broader, too. Under her helmet, she had sharp, dark bronze eyes. There wasn’t any trace of mockery in her voice when she greeted Zuko for her first shift, and while she was still bent forward bowing, she asked if he would thank ‘General Iroh’ for elevating her position. 

It wasn’t hard to put two and two together that she had been one of the prison guards assigned to Iroh during his incarceration. Zuko hoped fervently that Iroh hadn’t recommended her simply because she was pretty.

There was actual work to be done, even though it was his first day officially at the helm of the Fire Nation. There were more prison sentence commutations to make and a list of generals and advisors vying for an audience. Somewhere in the midst, Zuko was going to have to try and find time to touch base with his friends, who were all preparing to leave.

The day started easily enough. Zuko was still in his old bedroom, not the suite traditionally belonging to the Fire Lord. At some point, it would need to be cleared of all of Ozai’s things. Zuko didn’t know what to do with his father’s extensive collection of court robes and accoutrements. It would be easy enough to burn it all, but that probably wasn’t the diplomatic choice.

Hiina was back with breakfast and tea brewed, she said, under Iroh’s instruction. Zuko was less awkward this time when greeted by Hiina’s attentiveness. When she left his chambers, he thought, _maybe they don’t all hate me_.

There was the matter of the many advisors Zuko had inherited from his father. Ozai didn’t listen to counsel; he kept advisors as a means of stoking his own ego. As such, the advisors wouldn’t be as much help to Zuko. In fact, he suspected they were still loyal to Ozai, and might directly oppose him. It was likely only deep adherence to tradition and honor that prevented any of them from speaking against him.

Iroh was there to prod and nudge and whisper to Zuko what he knew personally of many of the advisors, but Iroh was getting ready to leave. Zuko would be on his own very, very soon.

Zuko swallowed down his dread with the tea Iroh had sent, and only flinched a little when Hiina came back with another servant to offer to help Zuko dress for the day. It was customary, at least throughout the years of Ozai’s reign, to have attendants through every part of the day. Ozai compounded everything he could with the epithets of being _Blood Of Agni_ and _the Divine Ruler_. He was too important to clothe himself, especially when that gave him another chunk of time in the day to intimidate household staff. Zuko, though, could clothe himself just fine.

When it came time to do his hair, part of Zuko wanted to send for Sokka. It was a silly idea — not even an idea; a half-joke, a twisted scrap of wishful thinking. Sokka and Katara were with their father, and the man they’d told him about, and the rest of the Water Tribe warriors released from prison. No doubt they’d be salvaging the boats that had ended up in the marina after the failed invasion, preparing to journey home. So, no, there would be no sending for Sokka. Zuko would have to manage on his own.

No one said anything if Zuko’s hair was looking a little more unkempt than was usually acceptable. They bowed low to their new Fire Lord, averted their eyes respectfully — something learned from years of court with Ozai and Azulon before him — and got on with business.

Toph was the first to meet with Zuko. She wandered unannounced into Ozai’s — _his_ — office late in the morning, a pastry in hand and a bored expression on her face.

“Entertain me, Sparky,” she said by way of greeting.

Zuko jumped badly, almost upsetting a pot of ink. He scowled in Toph’s direction, even though she couldn’t appreciate it. “Can’t you see I’m busy? How’d you even get past my guards?”

Toph felt around until she located a chair Toph reached out for the chair set near the desk, having sensed it in that uncanny way of hers, and clambered into it. She seemed unbothered by the tone Zuko had taken. “I asked if they wanted to see me flex my superior muscles. Everyone likes a good show.”

Zuko sighed. “Am I going to walk out of here into a mess of earthbending in my hallway?”

Toph shrugged and raised her eyebrows in a teasing way. She seemed completely unbothered, even at ease. Zuko wished he was as laid back as her, even just for a fraction of her calm.

“What are you doing?” Toph asked when she’d decided Zuko had been silent too long.

“I’m reviewing drafts of the concession of war that my advisors have submitted. I’m going to have to write the whole thing myself at this point; my cabinet is full of nationalists with bad tastes in their mouths.”

Toph wrinkled her nose. “That sounds boring.”

“It’s incredibly stressful,” Zuko countered. “And more indication that I need to overhaul my staff.”

“But not your _kitchen_ staff, right? Because I like them.”

Zuko pinched the bridge of his nose. “No, not the kitchen staff. Toph, why are you here?”

Toph grinned, sharp and lopsided. “What, you’re not happy to see me?”

“That’s not what I said,” Zuko backtracked. His head was beginning to ache. “I just—”

“Never mind, Sparky,” Toph said, already getting to her feet. “I just wanted to make sure to see you before I go.”

“You’re — you’re leaving?”

Toph shrugged. “There’s not much to do here, not with everything so hectic. I thought I’d go explore a little before things start getting really diplomatic. Sokka lost his sword when he saved my life the other day. I thought maybe I’d go try and find it, because, you know, I’m the greatest earthbender ever and there’s nothing I can’t do.”

“You… you’re going to wander around the forest trying to find a _single sword_ ?” Unspoken was the gentle rebuke: _don’t you want to go home_? But Katara would’ve already asked that, and Zuko knew better than anyone that there were all sorts of reasons to not want to return home. Still, he couldn’t help but worry about her. 

“Aren’t you listening? I’m the greatest earthbender ever,” Toph said with a straight face and a tilt of her head. Her eyes were sightlessly trained on a point over Zuko’s shoulder. After a couple heartbeats, she raised an eyebrow as if to let him in on the joke, and continued in a softer voice, “After I’ve returned the sword to Sokka, I’m gonna get started with some sort of training academy to teach metalbending. Because I’m the greatest metalbender ever, too.”

The headache was raging in full force. “Toph, aren’t you like twelve?”

Toph stuck her tongue out at him, further proving his point. “Don’t worry about me, Sparky. I’ll be fine, and then I’ll be back.”

Zuko stood, still unused to the heavy robes that were to become his day to day wear, and made his way around the desk. Toph promptly launched herself into his arms, done acting unbothered.

“Are you going to be okay without us?” Toph asked into the layers of silk over Zuko’s chest.

He squeezed her back, lowering his head to rest his cheek on top of her bouffant of hair after a moment. It struck him that she was the youngest of their group and he was the eldest, but she asked like she was the one who could protect him, could take his problems away. It made Zuko’s chest ache. “I think so.”

“I’ll kick anyone’s ass for you, you know. Just say the word. I’ll kick _everyone’s_ ass.” Toph told him. They both pretended that her voice hadn’t gone a little wavery.

“I know,” Zuko assured her. “Just be sure to come back soon, in case I need to take you up on your offer.”

On her way stomping out of the office, Toph paused. Zuko had returned to his chair behind the desk, and he froze, eyes trained on the rigidity of Toph’s spine. She slid one foot out, widening her stance, and cocked her head to the side. Zuko opened his mouth to ask what she was doing, and without turning or otherwise acknowledging him, she raised a hand for silence. 

Zuko watched the tiny movements Toph made, shifting her weight all around on her bare feet. Then she raised her right foot and stomped it soundly on the tiled floor. There was another long moment of Toph shifting her weight, and then she turned to Zuko over her shoulder.

“Sort of weird, having an empty passage behind that wall,” she said, pointing in the general direction of Zuko’s head.

Zuko frowned immediately, turning to look behind himself at the nondescript wainscoting on the wall. There was absolutely nothing there; no ripple in the wallpapering, no lip of a door. “What are you talking about?”

Toph sighed in a dramatic, put-upon way and turned around properly, stomping pointedly while she did so. “My feet don’t lie, Sparky. There’s, like, a passage big enough to fit a couple people back there.”

“Well, do you know where it _goes_?” 

“Down. Into the rock. It’s old, it’s cut into the stone.”

Zuko worked his jaw. It didn’t make any sense, but he had no reason to distrust Toph and her preternatural sense. “Can you tell me any more?”

Toph shrugged. “I’m sure it’s not a big deal. If you didn’t know about it, it’s probably old enough that it’s been forgotten.”

That didn’t exactly settle Zuko’s nerves, but there wasn’t anything he could do about it. He couldn’t exactly tear out a wall in the ancestral palace just because a twelve-year-old earthbender gave him the idea. Anyway, there was paperwork to attend to. 

Elsewhere in the palace, servants were packing up Azula’s plainest clothes to be shipped to Ba Sing Se. Azula didn’t have many plain clothes; there was no time to order Gaozong the tailor to whip up new garments, either. Azula considered the outfits that came to mind, resigning herself to being unremarkable. Well, that made _some_ sort of sense. She may not be a prisoner in the traditional sense, but there were still chains on her wrists.

No one had come to visit her that morning — the first morning of Zuko’s real reign. She tried not to take it to heart. Aki was back to bringing her breakfast, having apparently decided that Azula wasn’t going to ask her to commit treason again. Azula tried to smile at her, but from the look on Aki’s face, she must’ve just bared her teeth.

Azula couldn’t help but feel put out that none of the Kyoshi Warriors stopped by her room. Now that word had well and truly spread that Azula wasn’t a threat like she’d been before, there was only a regular guard posted outside her door. Anyway, it wasn’t just any Kyoshi Warrior she wanted to hang around.

Aki was back after lunch with a parcel of clothes. She set them by the bathtub behind the partition.

“Travelling clothes,” Aki answered Azula’s inquisitive look.

“Anything good?” Azula drawled.

Aki looked away. “It’s all very nice, Princess.”

If Azula’s hands hadn’t been bound, she would have made a show of examining her sharply filed nails. She hadn’t even been able to really see the burn scars she had now, not with her hands so constantly bound. “That’s probably a _lie_ , but I won’t hold it against you.”

The way Aki visibly flinched didn’t make Azula feel wholly victorious like it usually would. It felt… odd, that was all, to still wield power over the servants when she wore chains. It was _right_ , she assured herself, just _odd_. Even if Zuko and his stupid friends had written Azula off as harmless in her seclusion and without her bending, the servants hadn’t. They knew better.

Before dinner, Zuko was asked by Advisor Zhi if he would accept an audience in the throne room. Zuko was immediately put off for two reasons: the first reason, which made him feel sour right as it came to his mind, was that it was rather presumptuous of Zhi to ask Zuko to hold an audience. The second was that Zuko absolutely did not want to be in the throne room. The echoing chamber with its bowers of flames held too many uncomfortable memories for him, even if he hadn’t sat down to parse out for himself why exactly the memories were uncomfortable.

Still, there was work to be done, and Zhi passed Zuko a packet with the names of those requesting an audience. When Zuko saw the names, there was no way he was going to refuse.

So Zuko swallowed down the bile in his throat and made his way to the throne room, Ming and another guard flanking him with Zhi trailing along behind. The room was much different, dark and unlit by flames. The last person to hold audiences there hadn’t even been Ozai, it had been Azula. By then, Zuko had heard from multiple people the way she had summoned all sorts of people, from advisors to guards to household staff, and removed them from service on the day of the Comet.

Ming and the other guard stayed by the door, and Zhi hesitated just inside. Zuko didn’t afford himself that luxury. He squared his shoulders to put on a façade of something like righteousness and immediately sent fireballs to the sconces along the walls. The throne room wasn’t much better, even in the light. He walked past the unlit bowers that created a wall of fire between the throne and the audience space, and stood for a moment in front of the throne. _It’s just a chair_ , he reminded himself. _Just a stupid, uncomfortable looking chair_.

Deciding he’d done enough brooding, Zuko went up the dais and dropped into the throne without much thought. Like he’d anticipated, it was terribly uncomfortable, even with the layers of robes he was wearing. From the elevated position, Zuko looked out over the rest of the throne room. Zhi stood on the other side of the unlit fire wall, wringing his hands.

“Fire Lord Zuko,” he began, and Zuko knew what he was going to ask.

“No, I’m not going to light it. I don’t see any need at this point. You can go ahead and send in the audience, Zhi.”

Zhi bowed, but Zuko thought he heard him huff a harried sigh all the same. So be it. Zuko wasn’t going to let a wall of flames stand between him and his people. Though, in this case, it wouldn’t be his people coming in for an audience.

When the heavy throne room doors were pulled open once more, it wasn’t stuffy officials in Fire Nation crimson who swept into the room, but a party of people in Water Tribe blues. Sokka and Katara’s father was the man in front — Hakoda. Unbidden, memories of the Boiling Rock came to mind. Zuko could almost hear Sokka saying incredulously, _my dad doesn’t have a nose ring_! No: Hakoda was something like an older Sokka, and handsome even with his weathered skin and unfamiliar features.

Hakoda’s presence was so commanding that Zuko felt compelled to stand to acknowledge his entrance, even though that was unheard of for Fire Lords to do. Zuko kept his seat, stomach flipping awkwardly as Hakoda took a knee in front of him, the rest of the tribesmen following suit. And there was Sokka, flanking Hakoda — how had Zuko not noticed him earlier? Sokka caught Zuko’s eye and winked, a half-smile on his face. Zuko’s stomach flipped again.

“Chief Hakoda,” Zuko acknowledged, hoping his voice sounded more sure than he felt. “How can I help you?”

Hakoda rose in one fluid motion. “On behalf of the Southern Water Tribe, I wanted to express congratulations on your ascent to the throne. We are looking forward to working together in the future to better the relationship between our people and yours.”

That, at least, warranted a proper Fire Nation bow, Zuko thought, so he did just that. Only after he straightened did the rest of the tribesmen rise. Zuko took a deep breath. It was time for him to speak. 

“Thank you, Chief Hakoda. It is with the help of you and your warriors that we were able to turn the tide of the war and bring justice to the Earth Kingdom and an end to the fighting. I apologize for the incarcerations of you and your men, and I hope moving forward we can have a much more understanding relationship, as you’ve said.”

Sokka, standing behind his dad, was smiling fully. At Hakoda’s other side was an incredibly tall man, looking to be a similar age to him. He had long hair, shot with silver, and a burn that ate up one of his arms and climbed onto his shoulder. Still, he looked regal and poised. _That must be the ‘Bato’ Katara and Sokka were telling me about_ , Zuko thought. They hadn’t been introduced after the coronation after all. It had all been hectic, a blur in Zuko’s memory.

“After we return to the South Pole, I need to consult with the village elders. I may be the recognized chief, but we make decisions as a group. There are bands that live outside the village, and they must be consulted, too. We all defer to the Northern Water Tribe, of course, but if things are all in agreement, I’d like for the Southern Water Tribe to put in place an ambassador to the Fire Nation. This way we may be connected going forward, and in that way we may begin to heal the last decades of hurt.”

Zuko nodded. In his mind, he saw Bato in less heavy and fur-lined blue robes, dictating Hakoda’s wishes to him. “That sounds like an excellent idea, Chief Hakoda.”

Hakoda offered a lopsided smile not unlike his son’s. “I can’t speak for the Northern Water Tribe, who may not be as open to change… however, I _am_ willing to vouch for you. I know you’ve done well by my children, and by the Avatar. We in the Southern Water Tribe look forward to rebuilding the future with you, Fire Lord Zuko.”

“As do I,” Zuko said, and he meant it. “This will be a new era for both our nations.”

Katara came by Zuko’s chambers before the end of the day. “Dad said he was impressed with you during the audience this evening,” she told him.

Zuko sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to be as good at this diplomacy shit as he is.”

Katara chuckled, drawing water out of the skin on her hip. “You know he didn’t just become Chief overnight,” she chided. “It’s a process. Everyone has to learn. And anyway, you did get a childhood of training.”

Zuko made a face at her, even as he shrugged off the lighter yi he’d changed into after dinner so Katara could get to his still-healing burn. “I wouldn’t say my childhood was very oriented around getting me ready to take the throne. I think it was more about keeping me out of mind and out of sight.”

Katara scowled at him. “You make everything sound so dour.”

“You weren’t there,” Zuko snapped, and Katara thankfully left it at that.

The burn looked better, according to Katara, but after being under wraps it just looked gooey and pale to Zuko. He sat on the sofa and looked up at the ceiling while Katara did her healing thing.

“So when are you guys going?” he asked when the silence had gone too long.

Katara clucked her tongue. “Soon. As soon as the ships are all seaworthy. Dad and some of the other men have been working with some seamen they met at the marina. Others have been in talks with Caldera City merchants for supplies. It seems everyone is a bit strapped after the war. I think Ozai cleaned a lot of people out, but we all know how his air assault went.”

Zuko cringed. He still didn’t have numbers on how many had died after Sokka, Suki, and Toph had taken down the air fleet, but he had a number of generals and admirals wanting to talk to him in the next few days. How many unwilling soldiers had been drafted last minute, forced to fight a war that wasn’t theirs? 

“You okay?” Katara asked, lifting her hand from the burn and stopping the blue glow. In the absence of the healing light, the water Katara still held in her control was like a glove over her hand. 

“I’m fine,” Zuko said, “just thinking about… well, the war.”

Katara put her hand back to the burn, activating the glow again. “Aren’t we all,” she sighed.

“Well… I think I saw that Bato guy you and Sokka mentioned during the audience,” Zuko tried changing the subject. It did the trick — Katara smiled.

“The tall guy, right?”

“Right. Do you think he might be the ambassador your dad was talking about sending here as liaison?”

Katara actually scoffed at that. “No, actually. I mean, I think once upon a time he would be the logical choice, because he’s really always been Dad’s right-hand-man, but… I don’t know. I get the feeling that he and Dad want to stick close together.”

There was something she wasn’t saying, but Zuko couldn’t guess what it could be. Nothing bad, not with the way she had a half-smile still on her face and a faraway look in her eye, but something all the same. 

“Yeah, you guys had mentioned that they’re tight. I wonder if me and Sokka will ever be like that.” The thought had slipped out of his mouth without him meaning for it to, and he blushed badly even as Katara’s eyes widened. She settled for simply smiling up at him. 

“Who knows, maybe you will.” 

There was a knock at Zuko’s door before the sun was even up. The not-quite-jet, pre-dawn half-light filtered through the curtains, the only way Zuko knew it wasn’t the dead of night. He sat bolt upright in bed, heart in his throat. _They’ve come. Assassins_. He was sure of it. His guards must be dead, the palace might’ve been coming down on the other side of the door. He rolled out of bed, unsteady on his feet but falling automatically into a defensive stance. He wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

Only, the door opened and it wasn’t an assassin at all. It was Sokka.

“Haha, _whoa_ , Jerkbender. Isn’t it a little early for that?”

Zuko nearly slumped to the floor, his knees going to jelly with relief. “You fucking _idiot_ ,” he hissed as he extinguished his fire, “what were you thinking, showing up here so early?”

Sokka’s teeth glowed in the half-light when he flashed a grin. “When else am I going to catch you alone?”

Zuko’s knees were weak for a whole other reason, which he steadfastly refused to acknowledge. “Sokka—”

Sokka crossed the floor and threw an arm around Zuko’s shoulders. He used his momentum to start guiding them to the bed. “I just thought you could use some, like, _bro_ time. Your uncle and Azula are leaving today, right? I thought you might want to talk about it.”

Zuko pulled back from Sokka enough to look at him sideways. “At — at _four in the morning_?”

“You know, like old times,” Sokka said with a shrug.

Old times. Sokka meant the Western Air Temple. There had been a night Zuko couldn’t sleep, and had left the isolated safety of his bedroom to wander out into the ruins. Sokka had surprised him in one of the courtyards, and Zuko had almost blasted his stupid wolf tail off. They ended up talking instead, skirting around Zuko’s anxieties and focusing on Sokka’s nonsense stream of consciousness instead. 

That had been before the Boiling Rock. After they returned, though, any time Zuko couldn’t sleep and went to wander, he seemed to run into Sokka. Like that first time, they would talk until Zuko’s racing mind quieted enough for him to return to his room and sleep. It became so frequent that Sokka suggested they cut out the wandering and just start sharing a room.

And here was Sokka in Zuko’s pre-exile bedchamber, offering to talk as if he knew how Zuko had been wound tight enough to fall apart.

Sokka climbed onto Zuko’s bed without preamble, throwing himself on the fine linens like he lived there. Zuko followed after a moment of hesitation. What else was he supposed to do?

“It’s a little different than the Western Air Temple,” Zuko said softly, staring pointedly up at the canopy over the bed and not his friend. Sokka was on Zuko’s left, so Zuko couldn’t look sideways at him, but he could tell by the way the mattress curved under their weight that Sokka was on his side. Facing Zuko, watching him.

“You’re right, it’s nicer here. Smells less like dust and mildew,” Sokka said. He sounded like he was smiling. 

And when was Zuko going to see his smile again, after the Water Tribe went home? How long would it be? He needed to store as many smiles as he could in his mind so he had them when advisors were making him want to pull his hair out. So Zuko rolled onto his side, too, to lay face to face with Sokka.

“They’re going to make me move rooms, I think,” Zuko said.

Sokka made a show of looking over his shoulder and around the room. “What, this room isn’t nice enough for the Fire Lord?”

“There’s special rooms that have always belonged to the Fire Lord.”

Sokka wrinkled his nose. “Ugh, you’re going to have to sleep in Fire Lord Shithead’s bed.”

Zuko shoved at Sokka’s shoulder. “Don’t rub it in, you ass. I’m not exactly thrilled.”

Sokka was pliant, letting himself be shoved onto his back. He chuckled, “You make it easy to wind you up.”

Zuko had left his hand on Sokka’s shoulder, and when he rolled it had moved around to rest on his chest, right over his heart. Under Zuko’s hand, Sokka’s heart beat a steady rhythm. _I’m here_ , it said, _I’m here_. 

All at once, Zuko wanted to cry. He wanted to rage, he wanted to scream. “I don’t want to be alone,” he said softly instead.

In answer, Sokka’s hand came up to rest over Zuko’s. His hand was warm and rough, the hand of a warrior. He didn’t say anything, just waited for Zuko to continue.

“Everyone’s leaving,” Zuko said, letting the words slip from his tongue like smoke. He kept his voice in a bare whisper, just breathing them out. Sokka was so close, there was no need to be loud. “I’ll have all this to myself, and I’ll be Fire Lord, and I’ll be more alone than ever.”

Sokka’s other arm was between their bodies; he snaked it around Zuko’s shoulders and pulled him close. Zuko let himself be moved, rolling against Sokka’s warm side with his head against his shoulder. They’d laid close like this once or twice before, in the aftermath of nightmares when they had no idea how else to comfort. Always the morning after, they’d ignored that anything out of the ordinary had happened — acting instead like lying flush had been a dream.

It was different this time. Zuko couldn’t put his finger on exactly why, and he didn’t care to, either. Perhaps it was that he didn’t _want_ to pretend this was a dream. He wanted it to be real. 

With his face turned to speak into Zuko’s hair, Sokka said, “You won’t be alone. We’ll always be here if you need us.”

“Yeah, across the world with your own duties,” Zuko whispered into Sokka’s tunic. He regretted how bitter he sounded, the taste of his words acrid on his tongue. 

_Selfish_ , Zuko thought: it was selfish to treat Sokka like this, to tarnish what little time they had left together just because he was hurting. It wasn’t like Sokka could make the choice to stay, and to push him to that decision regardless would be to keep him away from his family, his home. _Selfish_.

Sokka scoffed, something Zuko felt more than heard with the way they laid. “Come on, Jerk Lord, you know you’re important enough to all of us that we’ll come if you call.”

Zuko didn’t know about that. He didn’t know how to respond. Finally he said, “I shouldn’t matter _that_ much.”

“Zuko,” Sokka groaned, “you’re the fucking _Fire Lord_.” Zuko shrugged, and Sokka dragged his hand from Zuko’s shoulder down the dip of his spine. In a voice hardly more than a breath, he added, “And you’re our _friend_.”

Zuko huffed a sigh and blinked hard. He wasn’t going to cry on Sokka, no way. The linen of the undershirt Sokka wore was rough against the delicate skin of Zuko’s face, but he pushed his face properly into it. Sokka didn’t seem to mind; he rubbed his hand up and down Zuko’s back. It was like the most natural thing in the world, a motion so easy and practiced it surely meant nothing.

“And now, we’re going to sleep before your servants come banging in here at the ass crack of dawn,” Sokka informed Zuko, punctuating his words with a peck of a kiss to his hair. “Got it? Can’t deal with all the problems in the world right now. This is all we can do.”

“Got it,” murmured Zuko, squeezing his eyes shut and turning his face further into Sokka’s shoulder. 

He wasn’t going to think about Sokka’s casual affection, or the way he said so easily that they were friends. He was just going to lay in his embrace and wait for the dawn to come and take it away. _And when’s the next time I’ll have this?_ Zuko asked himself. _I need this, if just to never have it again_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *comes back several months late with a chapter and no starbucks*  
> it was a spur of the moment decision to post this, so I hope it doesn't disappoint 😅
> 
> was that.... was that a scrap of zukka? 👀😏 was that DADKODA?  
> I was really sorry to see Toph go from this immediate narrative, but she will be back later! And the next chapter will have more of a return to Azula's POV :) so excited to get back to sharing this story with y'all 💘
> 
> my posting schedule isn't going to be as structured moving forward as it was with the last arc - so, unfortunately, there won't be another chapter this week and probably won't be one next week! they're written, just need to be beta-read - i don't want to share my scrambled-eggs-brain errors with you all 😳 my lovely beta [Olly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum) is starting grad school, so i'm ISO of a new beta!! you can find my post on that [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/post/633644468542865408/i-am-once-again-in-search-of-a-beta-for-my-fic/).
> 
> You can find me always on my ATLA & LOK bullshit [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/) 💘


	12. Arc 2 Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning before Azula and Iroh leave for Ba Sing Se

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for some brief mentions of past trauma/processing of trauma (no explicit detail)  
> cw for non-sexual mentions of nudity (not explicit)

Iroh was the one who brought Zuko’s breakfast and tea. As such, he didn’t wait for Zuko’s response before coming through the bedroom door. Zuko, for all his usual bluster about ‘rising with the sun’ was still quite asleep — and not alone.

At Iroh’s exclamation, Zuko sat bolt upright. For the second time in not enough hours, his first thought was that assassins had come for him. Sokka, still asleep for the most part, stirred much more slowly. 

“Uncle?” Zuko asked, squinting through the mess of his hair. The plume of fire around his outstretched fist died back down.

Iroh’s face was uncharacteristically pink. He set down the breakfast tray on the customary chabudai, not looking directly at Zuko. “I didn’t mean to intrude,” he said.

“What? You’re not — oh.” Zuko said, looking down at the way Sokka still had an arm thrown over his lap. Almost hating to do so, he extracted himself from Sokka’s embrace and crawled out of bed. “Uncle, you’re not intruding, I swear.”

Iroh gave Zuko an extremely pointed look. “Zuko,” he began in a low voice, and Zuko could feel his own cheeks heating up with just the _idea_ of where his uncle might try to steer the conversation. 

The potential direness of the situation came to Zuko’s mind with a flare of nausea: the way a misunderstanding of what was going on between him and Sokka could put them at odds with Sozin’s Law. Zuko didn’t think Iroh would be one to condemn, but Iroh clearly thought there was a certain reason for Sokka to be in Zuko’s bed. Could he even tell it was _Sokka_ , or did he think it was someone else? Zuko’s stomach was turning dangerously. He would just have to hope Iroh would take Zuko’s explanation seriously and not as an excuse.

“Uncle,” Zuko insisted, blearily padding across the floor to stand in front of Iroh, “I _swear_ , nothing’s going on. _Agni_ , I don’t even — Sokka doesn’t — he just couldn’t _sleep_. Back when we were traveling with Aang, we used to end up talking to each other late in the night when we couldn’t sleep. It’s just an old habit.”

“He couldn’t sleep?” Iroh asked, obviously disbelieving but too polite to say so.

Zuko put his hands on Iroh’s shoulders, willing him to understand. “He couldn’t sleep.”

“He couldn’t sleep,” piped a voice from the bed, and Sokka sat up. 

He was a blue fish in a school of red, there among all the hangings and drapes of Zuko’s bed. His hair was loose from its customary wolftail and hung soft and messy around his face. Zuko’s chest squeezed peculiarly at the sight, even though it was far from the first time he’d seen Sokka so.

Iroh dipped in a tiny bow of greeting. “Good morning, Sokka. I apologize if my intrusion woke you.”

“Uncle, you _weren’t intruding_ ,” Zuko all but hissed as Sokka clambered out of bed with a cheery, “Good morning, Iroh!”

“I am afraid I didn’t bring enough breakfast for all of us,” Iroh said to Sokka, ignoring Zuko’s embarrassed spluttering. “I didn’t know my nephew would have a visitor.”

“That’s alright,” Sokka said brightly, much more pleasant than Zuko was used to him being so early in the morning. He stood next to Zuko to stretch, groan appreciatively, and clap a hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko wanted to melt into the floor. His face was surely going to burst into flame. Pillars of smoke were going to curl out his ears.

Sokka continued, “I was just leaving. I’m sure you guys want your privacy, and all. Catch up on those bonding moments.”

“ _Sokka_ —” Zuko began, but Sokka ignored him just like Iroh had.

“That is very gracious of you, Sokka,” Iroh said, inclining his head slightly toward him. His cheeks were no longer pink, but he wore a small smile.

“Of course, Iroh,” Sokka said, bowing the proper Fire Nation way to Iroh. “Safe travels to Ba Sing Se! I hope you find your tea shop safe and sound. And Zuko, I’ll see you later, right?”

Sokka’s hand slid down from Zuko’s shoulder to clasp his bicep before he let go; part of Zuko was certain that if he looked down there would be a glowing handprint left behind. He steadfastly did not watch his friend lope across the room and disappear out the door. He didn’t meet Iroh’s eye like Iroh so evidently wanted him to, either. 

Zuko busied himself at the breakfast table, checking the temperature of the tea and setting out the cups like nothing interesting had happened that morning. After a moment, Iroh joined him.

“It is good to have friends,” Iroh said finally. Zuko caved and glanced up from his congee. Iroh’s dark gold gaze was steady, but didn’t seem to hold anything like questions or, Agni forbid, contempt.

“It’s new,” Zuko said simply. He pushed the congee around its bowl for a moment. “I think these are the first friends I’ve had of my own. Not _Azula’s_ friends, not the kids of nobles that I had to interact with during functions. _My_ friends.”

“And I am glad for that,” Iroh said, and it was true. 

Zuko looked across the room to the great window that took up most of the far wall. The curtains were drawn, but had opened enough that a sliver of morning light came in. 

“Months ago, when Zhao had captured Aang and the Blue Spirit rescued him, I wound up speaking to him very briefly.”

“Is that so?” Iroh asked, pointedly avoiding the subject of a certain blue-masked vigilante.

“I was out, and when I came-to, Aang was just sitting next to me, talking to me. He knew how dangerous of a situation it could be for him — I was so hell-bent on capturing him, right? But he just sat there, talking about a friend he’d had a hundred years ago in the Fire Nation before the war, and how he thought that if things were different, he and I could be friends, too.”

“So, in saying that,” Iroh prompted, “he was the first person to offer friendship to you?”

Zuko nodded slowly. “It got me thinking — about how I’d never had that before. And how, the way he spoke of being a kid with friends in other countries before the war, how maybe everything they told us in school was wrong. Maybe the Fire Nation never _had_ to start the war to protect their citizens, and maybe _we_ had been the aggressors all along. And it made me angry, but it also made me sad in such a selfish way. I couldn’t help thinking about all the people I missed out knowing, growing up in the middle of the war; thinking about how maybe I wouldn’t have been so alone.”

Iroh dropped his gaze to study his cup of tea. “You are anxious about your friends leaving.”

“ _Everyone_ is leaving,” Zuko said softly.

“I can stay,” Iroh started, but Zuko shook his head sharply.

“I don’t begrudge anyone needing to leave — and I certainly won’t ask you to stay. I found my destiny when I was welcomed into Aang’s group, and I know it’s my duty to stay here and lead. I can’t ask anyone else to deviate from their own destinies because I am too weak to be on my own.”

“You are not weak.”

“You know what I _mean_ , though,” Zuko said, his voice taking on a horrible pleading edge.

Iroh studied him for a few heartbeats before he dipped his head in acquiescence. “I know.”

“I think Azula going to Ba Sing Se with you is going to be the best thing, in the long run. She doesn’t know how to be _normal_ — to be anything other than our father’s puppet. I don’t imagine it’ll be easy, of course. She seems different, though. I guess in some ways, she’s been as alone as I have, or even more so, in this palace.”

Iroh nodded. “I was wrong to write her off as a crazy, power hungry child.”

Zuko shrugged. “Well, she _was_ those things. Or still _is_ , I don’t know. But there’s more to her than that.”

“I think,” Iroh said, and then paused to sigh heavily. “I think your father did damage to the both of you that I’d never considered, that I never thought a father would think of doing.”

Abruptly, Zuko felt very cold. He sat up straighter instinctively, stomach clenched tight, just to consider what growing up with Ozai had been like on a very base level. Noticing, Iroh reached out and put his hand over Zuko’s, guiding him to set down his chopsticks and rest his palm flat on the table.

“I am so sorry, Nephew. I will never not regret the way I didn’t intervene all the times I should have.” Iroh was true and earnest, leaning forward across the table to drive his point home to Zuko. His gold eyes were so different from Ozai’s, so obviously full of warmth and sincerity. Zuko felt sick anyway, and he looked away.

“It’s alright,” Zuko whispered automatically. He stared at a fixed point beyond the table, beyond Iroh, and tried to cue his eyes to blink. He felt frozen, his body at once cold and numb and full of pins.

“It isn’t alright,” Iroh said, and to Zuko’s horror, his voice shook. “I am going to do my best to atone for that.”

“You don’t have to,” Zuko said a little desperately, finally darting his eyes back to Iroh. 

Iroh was still leaned forward, his hand a weight over Zuko’s to tether his consciousness from flying away into some safe, blacked out place. Zuko felt sick with guilt and undeserving. It felt like all he did was _beg_ and _take_.

How could Zuko just _accept_ Iroh’s unquestioning, unwavering love, his declaration to make right old hurts? What if Zuko had been deserving of them all along? It wasn’t Iroh’s job to paint gold into Zuko’s broken places. It wasn’t his job to risk his life trying to find Azula’s wounds and heal those, too.

Iroh’s eyes on Zuko’s were endlessly sincere, and he tightened his hand around Zuko’s. “I want to. It will be my pleasure — nothing will make me happier than caring for you, Nephew. And Azula, as well. Nothing will make me happier.”

For the last time, Suki showed up at the bedroom door. Azula was awake. The moment the sun touched the horizon, even though she had no way of seeing it, her eyes had opened. That was either the beauty of being the most prodigious ~~former~~ firebender the Fire Nation had known or years and years of strict self-discipline. Still, she was under the covers when the guard at the door let Suki in. 

“Hey, sleepyhead,” Suki said, one hand on her hip and a slight smile on her lips. What, did she think they were _friends_ or something? Azula scowled her response.

“What, not a morning person?” Suki continued blithely. “Even though I wasn’t with the gang very long, it was long enough to hear your brother say that ‘firebenders rise with the sun’.”

She was out of uniform, wearing a gray tunic and dark leggings instead. It was probably as close to Earth Kingdom neutrals as she could scrounge up in the Caldera City markets. The thought of Suki being displaced in the Fire Nation, just as Azula was about to be displaced in the Earth Kingdom, made a flicker of a smile tug at the corners of Azula’s mouth. Instead of giving in to the flickers, she bit her lip until she could taste iron.

“What if I just don’t like company?” Azula asked. Her voice was whisper-level, scratchy and hoarse and reminding her terribly of her stupid Fire Lord brother.

Suki wrinkled her nose. Azula tried to pull the covers up to her chin, but Suki had already grabbed the edge to yank them from Azula’s fingers. “What, are you saying you don’t like me? I’m hurt.”

“You _would_ be, if I could bend,” Azula threatened, raising her hands enough to flex her fingers menacingly. Only, Suki didn’t seem to take it that way. She only chuckled scoffed , as if Azula had told a joke. Azula didn’t _joke_.

“You’re cute,” Suki said, extending a hand down to help Azula sit up. 

Only, she said it like one might say that turtleducklings were cute: it was coddling, pacifying, diminutive. Azula wanted to growl at her, but Suki would probably only laugh again. She seemed like the kind of low-bred person who might even _snort_. Who did she think she was, _laughing_ at Azula? And that was a whole other injustice, because she had the exact kind of bell-chime laugh that charmed everyone — just the sort of laugh Azula didn’t have.

“Why are you here?” Azula asked, trying to sound bored. It was hard not to look at Suki when she spoke, which sort of ruined the whole façade.

Suki still held Azula’s hand; she pulled her out of bed to stand on sleep-weak legs. She wasn’t gentle; she was no maidservant there to simper. Her grip was strong and sure, bold like she wasn't afraid of Azula's propensity to arc flames from her fingertips. “I’m getting you ready to go. You know, you’re traveling to Ba Sing Se today and all.”

“I _conquered_ Ba Sing Se, you know,” Azula said a little absently. “This is a little anticlimactic.” 

Suki rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I’ve heard. It’s not like you conquered the city the _honorable_ way, by winning a battle. You snuck in there like… like a _cabbage slug_.”

Azula narrowed her eyes. Suki probably thought she was clever with that — _cabbage slug_. Suki narrowed her eyes right back, letting go of Azula’s hand and stepping back. She no doubt expected Azula to follow. Of course, there wasn’t much choice for Azula _not_ to, which was a whole other level of aggravating. 

Suki was in control, and Azula was in chains.

With her back to Azula and in a much more even tone, Suki said, “Katara’s with her family this morning. She got a taste for being in charge while she and Aang and Sokka traveled the world, so she’s about going wild in the market buying supplies.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Azula asked, padding softly behind Suki to the partition in the back of the room.

“Would you rather I be completely silent?” Suki asked, turning over her shoulder and raising a neat brow.

Azula screwed up her face and looked away. “Servants aren’t supposed to talk.”

Suki spluttered, obviously incredulous. “Servants are _people_ , Azula, never mind that I'm obviously not one. They should be allowed to talk! Anyway, your servants aren’t here because you kept trying to proposition them.”

“I—!” Azula squawked indignantly. Suki raised her eyebrows at Azula, a smile on her lips so small and still radiating smugness.

“There’s more than one meaning to the word, _princess_ ,” Suki said, drawing out the title until it was lousy with mockery, “and you’ve been trying to get them to break you out of here.”

There were a couple points Azula wanted to yell about; she settled on answering the accusation first. “I wasn’t asking anyone to _break me out_. Anyway, I know none of the staff would. They’re all too well trained.”

Suki was facing Azula, her fingers at her throat to start unbuttoning the pajamas she and Katara had put on Azula the other night. She wrinkled her nose at Azula’s description of the servants. “What do you mean?”

Azula rolled her eyes and ignored the shiver in her stomach from the brush of Suki’s fingertips. “You don’t think we’d have mannerless heathens running through the Royal Palace, do you? The household staff go through etiquette training, as well as a catechism in what it means to serve the Fire Lord, child of Agni.”

Suki hummed, still working the buttons. She was at the point where the waist chain held the two sides of the shirt closed, even though the buttons were undone. Her face was screwed up like she'd smelled something bad. “You don’t think it’s odd to literally _train_ people?”

“Well, what do _you_ do?” Azula countered. She stood very still as Suki pulled the silk pajama shirt free from the constraints of the chain and well and truly open, hanging on only by the sleeves that had slipped down around Azula’s biceps. 

When Suki didn’t immediately answer, Azula answered for her. “You teach warriors how to fight in the manner of Kyoshi. You _train people_.”

Suki scowled properly, her sharp brows drawn close. She pulled her hands back from Azula and rocked back on her heels. “I teach self defense and self discipline. You’re talking about teaching people to grovel at your feet. Learning to be a Kyoshi Warrior is _nothing_ like having the fear of god put in you by an elite ruling class.” 

Azula rolled her eyes. “Don’t you think it’s narrow-minded of you to assume that the servants don’t _want_ to be servants? They made the decision to take the job. Anyway, some people need to be governed.”

Suki’s eyes flashed with such intense vitriol that a weaker person would’ve looked away. Azula wasn’t weak. She leaned into Suki’s glare, waiting for her to argue back. She hadn’t felt so alive in days. Azula was in her element when she was making her voice heard and her will recognized. 

“One day, the real world is going to bite you in the ass,” Suki said lowly, shaking her head and looking away. “When that day comes, I’m going to _laugh_.”

The wind left Azula’s sails as quickly as it had come. Suki wasn’t going to take the bait. Azula wasn’t done trying to send Suki over the edge, though. She jerked her hand against her chains, gesturing as much as she could toward the empty bathtub.

“Well? Aren’t you going to fill that?”

Suki rolled her eyes and opened her mouth to retort. She seemed to stop herself, though, and instead took a deep breath.

“You’re not getting a bath,” Suki said. “I’m just getting you changed into travelling clothes.”

Azula wrinkled her nose. “I’m _used_ to baths, you know.”

“I know,” Suki said simply. “We’re on borrowed time, though, princess. Without Katara to wash and dry your hair, we’d be here for ages. I’m afraid we can’t do your full beauty routine.”

At that, Azula went to touch her lower lip. The chains caught her arm, but not the thought. “I haven’t had my makeup on this whole time…”

“Nope,” Suki said, turning away to find where Aki had left clothes the night before. 

“How awful,” Azula said numbly. She tried to think of the last time she had been seen by outsiders without being made up. It just wasn’t something _done_ — she always had to be put together, had to be _presentable_.

Suki looked over her shoulder, a slight frown on her face. “What do you mean? It’s just makeup.”

“No it’s _not_ ,” Azula hissed, managing more vitriol than she anticipated herself.

Suki turned back to her, the bundle of clothes in her hands. More black silk — great. “Azula, you’re only… fourteen? Come on, we’re practically kids still. Why should we be expected to have makeup on our faces all the time? Come on, let’s get you dressed.”

“ _You_ are an Earth Kingdom villager,” Azula ground out. “I am — _was_ — the Crown Princess of the Fire Nation. There are _expectations_.”

“I’m also a Kyoshi Warrior, as we’ve already established,” Suki snapped, “so believe me, I know the significance of makeup.”

“It’s not the same!” Azula shrieked. Her voice felt like it was ripping in her throat. The _gall_ of Suki, to suggest they were anything alike.

The fire was back in Suki’s eyes, which gave Azula a kind of thrill. Here it was, here was the argument she’d been itching for. Suki’s knuckles had gone white around the clothes she held.

“I’m not going to entertain your whining about not getting to wear lipstick, _Azula_ ,” Suki said, and her tone was withering. “I’m in here because you need to get dressed in traveling clothes. Do you really think _makeup_ is what matters?”

Azula flexed her fingers, tensing her hands hard enough to hurt. There was no reward of fire, no sparks, no smoke. She wanted to scream, but her voice was still too damaged to reach a proper pitch. Anyway, with the way things had been going, the guards probably wouldn’t even check on her.

“How can you think it _doesn’t_? Presentation is everything. Why do you think your precious Kyoshi painted her face? To intimidate her foes, no doubt. _She_ knew it matters how people see you.”

Suki was obviously seething, but her voice was low and controlled. Azula didn’t miss the way she widened her stance, as if ready to fight. “Leave Kyoshi out of it. You know nothing about her and even less about why she painted her face.”

Azula felt a twinge of satisfaction, having riled Suki up so much. But Suki was looking away again, taking deep breaths, and straightening from her stance. Azula sighed. It had to be some stupid duty to Zuko that Suki felt, keeping her from telling Azula what she really thought. Suki had been easy to figure out from the very beginning: she cared about honor and righteousness as much as Zuko did. 

The joke was on Suki, though, when it came to Azula — Zuko probably wouldn’t care if he heard Suki was fighting with Azula. The realization had Azula feeling abruptly cold. No, Zuko wouldn’t care.

“So, I have to ask,” Suki said, breaking the silence and looking back to Azula. Her voice was so much calmer that she almost sounded gentle. “Why’d you fuck your hair up if you can’t even bear to be without makeup?”

“Those things aren’t even _related_ ,” Azula said instead of answering. She looked away, but could still see Suki’s gaze from her periphery. It would be easy enough to say it was an accident; there was no need for her to get into the vision she’d seen of the mother who never loved her, telling her lies in the mirror. 

The thing was, Azula never _had_ to do her own hair. It was her own brashness that had led to the ruination of her bangs. She could almost hear her attendants’ thoughts when they got her ready for her coronation. They were all thinking, _why has she done this? What’s happened to the princess?_ and Azula didn’t have an answer for them. It burned. _Oh_ , it burned.

Suki wouldn’t know — would never be able to understand — how it had felt for Azula to go to her coronation with her hair a mess. She _knew_ it looked bad, but it was out of her control. It was all out of her control. She felt like she was losing her grip on the world around her. And then as it turned out, she had lost everything. 

Against all reason, Suki set the clothes down on the lip of the tub. Her hand went to the dagger ever-present in her belt. Azula tensed. Suki drew the dagger from the sheath.

Suki wasn’t looking at her again, her gaze instead fixed on the dagger in her hands. She held it in front of her, something in her eyes faraway. The pommel of it was tooled to have the same shape as the diadem that marked Suki as the leader of the Kyoshi Warriors, and the grip was wrapped with dusty green fabric. The blade itself was a bronze tinted steel; it was almost rosy in the light. 

Considering she was potentially facing danger, Azula felt deeply calm.

“I… I could help,” Suki said, soft and apparently unsure of herself.

Azula arched an eyebrow. “You were just griping at me about _propositioning_ servants,” she said, “so forgive me if I have no idea what you’re on about.”

“You hair — your bangs, I mean,” Suki said, looking up. The faraway look was still in her eyes, though rapidly sharpening into surety. “I could… even them out, you know?”

 _Oh_. “Oh.” Azula wasn’t sure what she thought, though. She narrowed her eyes, looking between the dagger and Suki’s face. “Aren’t we on a tight schedule?”

“I’m not offering to give you a spa treatment,” Suki said with a sigh. She had the smallest lift to one corner of her lips, though, as if there was a joke in that.

“Why would you even offer anything at all?” Azula pressed, tilting her head to the side. Questions ran through her mind, too many to ask. What had suddenly changed for Suki?

Suki shrugged. “I mean, maybe that’s a silly idea. I just thought, you seem to care a lot about how you’re perceived. Your image and all that. And moving to the Earth Kingdom—”

 _What am I_ doing _? I’m going to end up accidentally talking her out of this,_ Azula thought. She didn’t let Suki finish. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Suki repeated, her eyes going a little wide.

“ _Okay_ ,” Azula said again. “You can… cut my hair or whatever. Agni, just don’t... fuck it up.”

Azula took a deep, steadying breath. She didn’t _need_ to of course; she was perfectly calm. She was aware then that her pajama top was open, as her argument with Suki had kicked off while she was in the middle of being dressed. The shirt had slipped back, the sleeves hanging on around her biceps. Her jagged hair, so infrequently down, laid heavily against her neck and down her back. 

It was just as well that her shirt was away from her body; the laundress would probably have a fit if she was sent clothes full of cut hair.

Suki’s eyes found Azula’s — dark, dark blue on gold. She offered the tiny half-smile again. “Don’t you remember that fight we had in the forest, when you arrested me and the girls? I’m pretty good with a blade.”

It was a joke, but Azula’s mouth had gone too dry for her to even think about laughing. It was a good thing Suki wasn’t actually funny. 

They ended up with Azula leaned forward over the tub, the lip of it pressing into her stomach right under her breasts. She kept her shoulders back and square even as she leaned forward, angling her face so Suki could get at her bangs easily. Suki knelt on the other side of the tub, so the basin was between them to catch cut hair. 

It had been a long time since the Fire Nation hosted executions publicly, but Azula had seen paintings of them: she knew there was something ironic about being bound with her neck exposed. She tried not to think about it.

Suki studied Azula’s face for what felt like a good minute before she did any cutting. This was ostensibly to examine the damage Azula had done with her own dagger, cutting her hair as her hand slipped and her mind spiraled out of control. Finally, she gave a sharp nod and raised the dagger.

 _I shouldn’t be this calm_ , Azula thought again, even though she shivered when the cool edge of the dagger brushed her cheek. It was more a response to the sensation than acknowledging how close she might be to getting murdered, though. _When’s the last time I felt this calm?_

The first locks that came off floated to the bottom of the tub. Suki didn’t look at them. She didn’t meet Azula’s eyes; she didn’t look away from her task. Suki wielded the dagger deftly, cutting through Azula’s jagged bangs with only small movements of her wrist. There had to be great strength in her forearms and even greater control.

Too soon, Suki sat back on her heels. “Done, I think,” she said.

Azula had come to a conclusion, though. The thought had actually gripped her quite suddenly, and she couldn’t shake it. “Actually,” she said, “I have another request.”

Suki put an elbow on the lip of the tub and rested her chin in her palm. They were almost nose to nose. “What’cha got?”

When it came time to unhook the chain around Azula’s waist so that her clothes could go underneath, there was obviously a move that Azula could make. She had considered before how easy it would be to swing the chains still on her wrists, how to throw a punch or land a hit. She didn’t need her bending to be a threat. Still, she couldn’t find it in her to strike. Where was her mettle — her metaphorical fire? Gone like her physical fire. Gone, gone.

Suki continued what she was doing — shaking out the dress that Aki had brought for Azula — with loose, relaxed movements. It was as if she wasn’t even on guard. Azula looked past her to the tub, where the long, severed ponytail of her hair lay. 

Suki had unwrapped part of the linen on the grip of the dagger to bind Azula’s hair back with, and she’d cut it all off in a deft slice. Azula had not flinched, or cried, or any of that. In the Fire Nation, it was customary for banished or dishonorable subjects to cut their hair. Well, she was being sent away by her brother, and she’d lost an Agni Kai for the throne to him. He said it wasn’t imprisonment, and it wasn’t going to be forever, but what did he know? Nothing.

Azula hadn’t let Suki leave her with a bob. “Shorter,” she insisted, staring off at a point on the wall. 

Suki stood behind her instead of where she had sat in front of her to trim her bangs. Even so, Azula could almost _see_ the wrinkle in her nose when she repeated, “Shorter?”

“Yes,” Azula had said, and saying that made the decision even more solid in her gut. “Shorter than Zuko’s, even.”

“Azula, are you sure?” Suki had asked, so soft it was like she thought she might bowl Azula over. One of her hands came to rest on Azula’s shoulder, wide enough to cover the whole shoulder with her thumb resting on a now uncovered knob of her spine.

Azula clenched her fists and didn’t flinch. “I’m sure. It’s got to be short.”

Unspoken, there had been the acknowledgement that it was terribly unfashionable for a girl to have such short hair. It simply wasn’t _done_. Perhaps the only girls who went for short hair were Air Nomads shaving their heads to receive their tattoos, and that hadn’t been done in at least a hundred years. For a member — maybe a former member, Azula thought — of the Royal Family, it was simply not even worth thinking about. But here she was, leaned forward over a tub in a windowless bedroom, asking an Earth Kingdom warrior and her dagger to shear all her hair off.

Azula felt leagues lighter without the weight of her hair. In the Fire Nation, it was customary for it to always be pinned up and back. Now there would be none of that. Like her title and so much more, it was gone.

Suki stood behind Azula, arms around her to hold the dress out in front of her. Instead of the usual crossed-over closure on the front, the dress had a mock front and tiny buttons down the back. The dress was a black cheongsam, one that went down to her calf with a slit only up to her knee. There was red embroidery adorning it — dragons and tongues of flame that snaked up the hem to the bodice. No wonder Azula wasn’t familiar with it — it would be near impossible to get into bending katas or martial forms in it. The horse stance, for instance, would pop the seams and rip the silk. The dress had likely been at the back of her closet, waiting. Somewhere in the world, it was all the rage.

Azula obligingly put her arms through the short sleeves and let Suki pull it back. The buttons of it went down her spine. Azula supposed she’d need Iroh to help her with it, when they were on the boat to Ba Sing Se — but then again, by then she wouldn’t be in chains. She could do her own buttons.

Just as she’d undone Azula’s buttons not an hour earlier, Suki deftly buttoned Azula into the cheongsam. She seemed to hesitate, though, before reaching for the waist chain that hung from Azula’s right wrist. Azula didn’t see the need to beat around the bush. It was what it was at that point; there was no changing that, while she was in the Fire Nation, she was a criminal of sorts. She lifted her hands so Suki could take the chain that much more easily.

After fastening the chain around Azula’s waist, and thus locking her arms in place on their short leashes, Suki rested her hands on Azula’s hips. In a quiet, unsure voice, she said, “I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re really something. You’re fierce in a fight… it’s captivating.”

Azula scoffed, too loud for the moment and too harsh on her healing throat. “Give it a break. What, do you want me to come around and hit you?”

“I’m serious,” Suki said; her fingers tensed a little on the silk over Azula’s hips. “If we hadn’t been on different sides of this war — you’re someone I would’ve wanted to fight alongside.”

“But we were,” Azula said, “we _were_ on different sides. And you won, and I lost.”

Suki was quiet. Her hands left Azula’s hips, and a moment later she brushed short, cut hairs off of Azula’s neck. The action was quick and matter of fact. The moment, whatever it had been, was over. 

“We won, and you lost,” Suki confirmed. “You… you have a _lot_ to learn. I do hope that you find something in Ba Sing Se, though.”

Azula scoffed again, shaking her head as she turned to look at Suki. Suki’s face was hard to read, even though Azula had always prided herself on her ability to read people. “‘Something’?”

Suki shrugged, and the small smile she offered was sad for some reason. “Peace, I guess. Solace. You know — the dream.”

“The _dream_ ,” Azula repeated numbly. Her dream had always been a throne room surrounded by blue flames. Both the throne room and the flames were out of the question now. Meaning to be harsh, or sarcastic, or simply armed with her usual sharpness, she said, “Thanks, Captain.”

She must’ve sounded too sincere, though, because Suki found her hand and gave it a squeeze. “I’ll go tell them you’re ready to go.”

And then she was gone, leaving Azula standing alone in the bare bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been hinting at this chapter's events here and there on my tumblr but... here it is!! I didn't always like the idea of Azula cutting her hair, but it ended up just falling into place and I love it so much. If you guys know of any short-haired Azula art, send it my way!! I'd love to share it 💘  
> As for Zuko in the beginning of the chapter... oof. He's trying really hard, alright?
> 
> I'm posting this chapter a little earlier than I planned, but I just couldn't wait to share it!!!! I don't know when the next chapter will be up for real, though, as it's not edited etc. My lovely beta [Olly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum) is starting grad school, so i'm ISO of a new beta!! you can find my post on that [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/post/633644468542865408/i-am-once-again-in-search-of-a-beta-for-my-fic/). All that aside, let me know what you think of this little story!! Comments and kudos keep me going, no exaggeration.
> 
> You can find me always on my ATLA & LOK bullshit [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/) 💘


	13. Arc 2 Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Zuko, the Gaang, and Ozai's Angels bid Iroh and Azula farewell.  
> The Fire Siblings have a one-on-one conversation.

Iroh had done Zuko’s hair for him. For what had to be the hundredth time that morning, Zuko’s thoughts wailed, _what will I do without him_? _How will I manage_?

There was morning business that he had to attend to before he could see Iroh and Azula off for Ba Sing Se. He wasn’t even going to be able to go down to the docks with them to watch them embark. It would be too big of a procession for the Fire Lord himself to go through Caldera City. Anyway, there were people to meet with and orders of business to address before the morning was up. 

Aang had spent his time in Caldera City so far getting properly acquainted with the Fire Sages — now that the goal of the Fire Nation wasn’t to end the Avatar cycle — and learning about what culture he’d missed out on while frozen in an iceberg. With the Air Nomad monks having been wiped out, the Fire Sages were the biggest religious group still around. It made sense that Aang gravitated toward them, even though the last hundred years had convoluted their teachings. Zuko didn’t know how long Aang would be staying. With Toph already gone, he felt that the dispersal of their group was imminent. It made his body feel heavy with dread. 

Still, there was a note delivered to Zuko’s office when he got there asking if he’d put aside some time that evening for them to spar. Aang might’ve defeated Ozai, but he still wanted to brush up on his technical forms. Zuko was more than happy to oblige.

It was mid-morning when Kachi, the head of the household servants, poked her head into the office.

“Fire Lord,” she greeted, dipping in a polite bow.

“Is it time?” Zuko asked in place of a greeting. 

Kachi nodded, disappearing her hands into her sleeves in a respectful way as Zuko stepped out from behind the desk. She led the way through the warren of halls, Ming trailing behind Zuko to make up their small procession.

Iroh and Azula were to be gathered in the front hall of the palace, where servants could move whatever luggage they were taking out to the plaza outside. The docks weren’t far; close enough that it was still acceptable for a palanquin to transfer them, though a dragon moose cart had been chartered for the luggage.

Kachi bowed again and stepped aside right in the mouth of the hall, letting Zuko and Ming proceed without her. Zuko wanted to thank her, but the best of the servants had an uncanny way of blending into the palace walls and making themselves scarce.

Zuko heard Iroh’s belly laugh before entering the hall; it made him feel equal parts of warmth and despair. How long was he going to go without hearing that laugh? Iroh was having some overly friendly conversation with a member of the kitchen staff — probably, Zuko thought, about tea. When he saw Zuko, though, he clapped the other man on the shoulder in a familiar way and excused himself. 

“Fire Lord Zuko!” Iroh boomed, opening his arms. He looked good: he had preemptively changed into the Earth Nation greens he favored while they had lived together in Ba Sing Se. The weight he’d lost in prison was more apparent without customary Fire Nation ceremonial armor and with a light green obi tied securely around his waist. 

Zuko ignored the eyes on him and let himself be folded into his uncle’s embrace. It had only been since that morning that they’d been apart, but he had missed Iroh’s guidance. Learning to live without him was going to be a feat he had never considered facing before that summer.

“Here, look at this,” Iroh said when he drew back. He fished in his pocket for a minute, producing a small token that fit completely in the palm of his hand.

“What’s that?” Zuko asked, squinting with his good eye. Iroh held it out so Zuko could take a closer look. It was a miniature sculpture of Toph.

“It was a parting gift from the little earthbender, Toph. She is proficient in _metal_ bending, did you know that?”

Zuko’s mind supplied him immediately with all the times Toph had crashed into him (quite purposefully), crowing about her prowess, and he fought a smile. “Yes, she’s developing her skill quite quickly.”

“I had her promise to come visit the Jasmine Dragon,” Iroh said, accepting the trinket back. “She is a lovely conversationalist. I am sure she will have many stories following her travels.”

Zuko smiled properly at that. He wouldn’t personally use those words to describe Toph, but he appreciated that his uncle had taken another wayward youth under his guidance. “I have a feeling you might have our whole group coming to visit you at some time or another.”

Iroh chuckled, his hand over his stomach even though it didn’t have the same effect now that he was so fit. “That is _more_ than fine with me, Nephew,”

“And I’ll visit, too, when things are more settled here,” Zuko said, unable to keep an undertone of pleading from his voice. He was almost desperate to reassure himself that this wouldn’t be the last he saw of Iroh.

“I know you will,” Iroh reassured him easily before looking up over Zuko’s shoulder. “Ah, here is your girlfriend.”

“Mai?” Zuko asked, even as he was turning around. Sure enough, she was stalking into the hall, dressed in black and bloody burgundy and holding herself like she belonged. Which, of course, she did.

Mai dropped into a half-curtsey before reaching Zuko, something he’d never before asked her to do. He remembered that Azula had insisted on that formality from her friends, and it made some sense that he would be awarded customary measures of respect now that he was Fire Lord, but it was still weird. Also, because it was Mai, the whole motion came off a bit sarcastic.

Zuko held out his hand automatically and Mai took it without hesitation, slinking up to his side. She dipped her head to Iroh in greeting, and Zuko found himself wondering if the two of them had ever been formally introduced.

“How are you, Mai?” Iroh asked warmly, and Zuko decided he didn’t need to worry. Next to him, Mai felt relaxed and warm.

“I’m well, General Iroh. Happy to be out of prison.”

Iroh chuckled. “I can agree with that sentiment. Your family is well?”

Mai sighed, and she had always been so good at sighing. “They’re fine. Dad’s all worked up about the regime change — he’s staked most of his career on his ability to roll over and take whatever Ozai dished out.”

Zuko flinched at his father’s name, and he thought maybe Iroh’s smile wavered, but Mai was steadfast. She never did pull punches.

“Well, we will see how the framework of politics reworks itself, hmm?” Iroh settled on saying.

There was a silence that threatened to become awkward, but Mai broke it before long. In an outburst that seemed to surprise even herself, she said, “General Iroh, you’ll take care of her, won’t you?” 

It was understood immediately who the ‘her’ in question was. Iroh’s expression became quite serious. “Yes, I will.”

“She — I don’t think she’s a monster like people say,” Mai said, softer this time. Zuko gave her hand a small squeeze, which she returned after a heartbeat. 

“No, she’s not a monster,” Iroh agreed. “She’s a child who was mistreated.”

“I don’t want to ignore all the bad she’s done,” Mai clarified. “I just… I don’t know. If we start calling her a monster, I’m afraid… I’m not _afraid_ ; I just think it would only be a matter of time before Ty Lee and I are called monsters, too. We were right there at her side for this last year.”

Iroh reached out, and Zuko watched with mild surprise as Mai let him fold her free hand between both of his. Mai wasn’t big on touch, not from anyone. 

Iroh said, “My hope is to give Princess Azula a place to heal. I think that is what the people who care about her want to see most.”

Mai dropped her gaze in what Zuko realized was something as close to deference as Mai really got to people in power. “Thank you, General Iroh.”

The Kyoshi Warriors, minus Suki, were the next to come into the entrance hall. Zuko had asked Suki to have a detail accompany Iroh and Azula to the docks, ensuring Azula made it onto the boat. She may be obviously weaker, but she was still theoretically a threat. All Zuko needed was Azula to somehow break free and get lost in the wind. 

Suki had agreed readily, explaining that the Warriors were actually chartering a boat to the Earth Kingdom, anyway. It was time for them to return to Kyoshi Island, to reunite with the older women who had been drafted into the war, to rebuild the damage Zuko and his fire had done — and it was time for another part of Zuko’s newfound family to leave him. 

The Kyoshi Warriors would be sailing southeast near Whaletail Island to reach their home; Azula and Iroh would sail northwest to approach Ba Sing Se on the eastern side of the wall. It was just luck that had them leaving from the same Capital port.

Mai excused herself to wander over to the Warriors and greet the other girls. Ty Lee, of course, was among them, painted identically with her hair pulled back. It made sense that Mai would want to spend time with her before they were apart for an indefinite amount of time.

“That girl is very formidable,” Iroh said to Zuko, giving him a nudge with his elbow as they both watched Mai’s retreating back. “She is Ukano’s daughter? She holds power she may not know. You do have interesting young women around you, Nephew.”

“ _Uncle_ ,” Zuko groaned, fearing this would be a conversation that led to light pressure to marry. Already he’d had Advisor Fa hinting that a _united front_ leading the country would be a powerful image. There was no telling what the pressure would be like when he had been on the throne for more than a day.

Iroh only laughed, apparently pleased with himself for making the tips of Zuko’s ears turn pink. He continued, “And the Water Tribe girl, what a fantastic bender she is. A master, and at her age!”

“ _Uncle_ ,” Zuko said again, sharper this time. Iroh fixed him with a sideways glance, his imperial golden eyes bright with mirth. Because it was amusing to Iroh, and only that, Zuko sighed and said, “Katara has something going on with Aang, I think. Which is _fine_ , because I _don’t like her_. Not like that.”

“Ah,” Iroh said, his hand going to his beard to stroke at it thoughtfully. “The Avatar. That’s quite a pairing.”

As if Iroh had summoned him, Aang came bouncing into the hall, Momo on his shoulder, before Zuko could crossly comment on the way that both Aang and Katara weren’t even fifteen yet — far too young to be in discussions about _pairings_. Katara was even at Aang’s side as they entered the hall, but she slipped away to talk to the Kyoshi Warriors and Aang kept heading toward Zuko. 

“Flameo, Sifu Hotman!” Aang called, moving like he was anchored to the earth only by the balls of his feet. Momo bobbed as Aang walked, but what looked precarious to Zuko was probably fairly familiar to the lemur.

“You’re not going to stop calling me that, even though I’m the Fire Lord now?” Zuko asked, resisting the urge to cross his arms.

Aang laughed like Zuko had told a joke. “Should I?”

“No one even says ‘flameo’ anymore,” Zuko pointed out. “It’s archaic.”

“Archaic?” Iroh repeated. “It was popular enough when I was young!”

Zuko cut his eyes sideways at his uncle. “Like I said, _archaic_.”

Iroh made some good-natured argument to that, and Aang made some agreement, but Zuko wasn’t really listening. Across the hall, Mai was listening to something Ty Lee was telling the other Kyoshi Warriors and Katara. Ty Lee gesticulated widely as she spoke, and she kept ending up touching Mai in some way — squeezing her hand or stroking her arm. Zuko couldn’t tell, but he thought Mai might be… smiling? 

Zuko was pulled back into the conversation in front of him when Iroh made a show of reaching into his sleeve for something. Aang was rocking on the balls of his feet, head tilted to the side. He would have passed as a double of the lemur on his shoulder, doing that.

Iroh held his hand out, palm down, and looked both Zuko and Aang in the eye, inclining his head a little. Zuko reached his own hand out, palm up, to accept whatever Iroh was offering. Aang did the same, Momo leaning down and forward to see if it was a treat. Zuko immediately recognized the shape and weight that settled into his hand.

“A pai sho tile?” he asked before even looking at it.

“Look closer,” Iroh said, folding his hands together. Aang got it first.

“The white lotus tile,” he said in a kind of reverent voice.

Zuko frowned, his mind going to the camp where he’d reunited with Iroh before the Comet. “What is this?”

Iroh smiled slightly. “It is a reminder that you aren’t alone. The both of you. There will always be someone around looking forward to a greater future. Aang, this is more important for you — the Order of the White Lotus is dedicated first and foremost to protecting the Avatar. Though, as we move away from wartime, there will once again be emphasis on preserving art, history, and knowledge.”

“General Iroh, thank you for this,” Aang said in that same reverent voice. He bowed, making Momo scramble onto his back. “I didn’t properly thank you for the aid the White Lotus gave us on the day of the Comet. It is only with your help that we were able to defeat Ozai. Without the White Lotus, Ba Sing Se would still be lost. Thank you for getting King Kuei back on the throne.”

Iroh patted Aang’s unoccupied shoulder. “It was our destiny. More than that, though, we were _glad_ to assist you. It was an honor.”

“Uncle… what does this mean for _me_?” Zuko asked. He felt like he had a shadow of understanding, and hated that he needed Iroh to spell things out for him and even more how needy he felt.

“I have spoken to two members of the White Lotus — one whom you know well, the other whom you know by reputation more than anything. They will be coming to have an audience with you in the morning. Though I highly doubt either of them would like to engage in rolls within the monarchy, I am sure they will lend you aid in getting the Fire Nation back on its feet.”

And so Iroh would be guiding Zuko even in his absence. A rush of nearly overwhelming affection and gratitude surged through Zuko’s chest. “How can I thank you?”

Iroh’s smile was so easy and warm, his dark gold eyes crinkled softly from the size of it. “Nephew, you don’t need to thank me. It is my greatest pleasure to aid you, and to see this new life return to my country.”

“I really need to brush up on my pai sho skills,” Aang said absently, and Iroh laughed.

Iroh likely responded with some invitation to the Jasmine Dragon for lessons, but Zuko found himself distracted once again. At the entrance to the hall, he could see the helmet and spiky, flared pauldrons of a palace guard. Ming even had turned to look over her shoulder where she was posted by the door. It could only mean one thing — that Azula was arriving.

Azula wasn’t necessarily short or even slight; she was built healthy and strong and likely could’ve been wearing their mother’s clothes if Ursa hadn’t disappeared. Still, the guard bringing her from her room was tall and bulky, and Zuko couldn’t see her around him. Being so, as the party came into the hall, Zuko found himself catching the expressions of the Kyoshi Warriors and Katara, as they were closer to the entrance and saw her first. There were unilateral looks of surprise on their faces. His stomach fell.

The bulky guard in front stepped aside when the party was about a komodo rhino length away from Zuko. Zuko blinked and blinked again, harder this time. _Azula_?

Overwhelmed, Zuko dropped his gaze from Azula’s face. She was wearing clothes that were more fitted than she usually favored, most likely a subliminal comment on her confinement — there would be no way to fight in a cheongsam. There were dragons embroidered in varying shades of fire on the black silk, which struck him as almost hilariously ironic in that moment: she believed dragons to be extinct, like the rest of the Fire Nation, and there was a chance that only through the dragons would she be able to regain her bending.

Azula stood like she always had next to Ozai or in front of soldiers waiting for examination: shoulders square, back straight as an arrow, feet spaced perfectly under her shoulders. She would look like herself, even in the cheongsam, if not for two things: she still didn’t have her makeup applied as usual, leaving her face completely bare, and that all of her hair had been shorn off. As in, her hair was _gone_.

“Azula?” Zuko found himself asking. _What the fuck what the fuck what the fuck..._

One of Azula’s eyebrows shot up in a challenging, familiar sort of way. If she wasn’t still in chains, a hand would have no doubt been on her hip. “What?”

Zuko didn’t know how to voice his questions. What in Agni’s name had happened? She was nearly bald, with the sides and back of her hair cut so close. It was like when his hair had been growing out from its phoenix tail, after he and Iroh had cut their topknots in recognition of their exile. Which — which was likely exactly Azula’s intention.

“Princess Azula,” Iroh was booming next to Zuko, his voice warm and easy like there was nothing amiss at all. “How lovely you look.”

“Is that how you talk to all prisoners?” Azula drawled boredly, “Or just the ones you’re related to?”

Like that, the spell was broken. Iroh had accepted whatever statement Azula was making, and Zuko saw no reason not to do the same. It was… it was weird, though.

Aang had gone back to chattering to Iroh, and Zuko found himself standing a bit removed from everyone else. Mai and Ty Lee were breaking away from the Kyoshi Warriors and wandering over to Azula, keeping distance between themselves and her. Katara stayed where she was, looking between Mai and Ty Lee’s retreating backs and Azula, her face screwed up with something like skepticism. 

“Oh, Azula,” Zuko could make out Ty Lee’s high voice easily over the relative noise in the hall, “You’re _so_ pretty like this. Who knew you could pull off every hairstyle there is? You look so _fresh_ — and your aura is practically glowing, which is a good omen, I’m sure!”

Mai was silent. She and Azula were locked in some sort of staring match, which only intensified as the space between them closed. Without looking away from Mai, Azula said, “Thank you, Ty Lee. Perhaps I should have gotten banished earlier.”

Zuko had to interrupt. He took three steps to close the distance between them and said, “I’m not _banishing_ you, Azula,”

“And what is this, then?” Azula snapped, looking away from Mai and yanking both her arms hard against the chains that bound them to her waist. Only then did Zuko notice the thick bandages wrapping around her forearms.

“Did you do all that?” he asked, his voice more serious than he really meant for it to be.

“Don’t change the subject,” Azula said sharply, baring her teeth slightly.

Zuko rocked back on his heels automatically at the expression, having long associated it with a combination of flames and fists, or, the older they got, handfuls of static sparks. Azula scoffed and rolled her eyes at him, turning back to Mai and Ty Lee. For a moment, they could’ve been years in the past, standing around a courtyard harassing each other the way siblings everywhere did.

“Well, there goes any hope of you _blending in_ in the Earth Kingdom,” Mai said lowly, breaking the illusion and gesturing like she might touch Azula’s shorn hair. 

Only, Azula flinched badly, blinking hard and looking like her own reaction had startled her. Her expression quickly flickered to one of irritation, and Zuko could almost _see_ her mind working, trying to decide who to chastise for her own action.

Aang had left Iroh to stand by Zuko. He saved Azula from finding someone to blame by brightly saying, “Hey, you look like I did when I was hiding out here in the Fire Nation.”

“You had hair?” Ty Lee asked, leaning around Mai to look at Aang. Zuko was frowning down at Aang, having been ready to ask the same thing. 

“When were you hiding out here?” Azula demanded, turning her scowl from Momo to Aang. She sounded irritated but not downright murderous, which was actually a kind of improvement.

Aang shrugged, looking a little sheepish. “You know, when I was supposed to be dead.”

Azula narrowed her eyes into gleaming golden slits. “Of _course_ you were. Only something that _stupid_ would work for the _Avatar_.”

Ty Lee opened her mouth like she wanted to admonish Azula for speaking to Aang that way, but Zuko shook his head minutely. It wasn’t like Azula was _wrong_.

Mai sighed and crossed her arms. It was a motion she did casually, but that Zuko — and all of them but Aang, likely — knew was practiced carefully to not disturb the arsenal of stiletto knives in her sleeves. “When are you getting out of here?” she asked.

“What do you care?” Azula shot back automatically.

Mai rolled her eyes. “I _don’t_. I just want to go back home and be done with this.”

Ty Lee shifted her weight just enough to press against Mai. It was a tiny movement, but one that had Azula narrowing her eyes again. “Why are you two even here if all you want is to see me fail?”

“Fail what? _You’re_ the one in chains,” Mai said, tilting her head, “and anyway, it’s Ty Lee’s _job_.”

“ _Mai_ ,” Ty Lee chastised before Zuko could stutter out his surprise at her bluntness. “Azula, we’re here because we’re your _friends_. We wanted to see you before we’re apart for however long it’ll be. You know?”

Azula looked away across to a nothing point across the hall. She didn’t say anything.

Aang was looking up at Zuko, Zuko could tell from his peripheral. No doubt they were both thinking of the exchange they’d had right before Zuko was officially crowned. _And now we’re friends. Yeah, we_ are _friends_. It was one of the very few times Zuko had been confident in calling someone his friend. On the other hand, Azula had always been confident calling Mai and Ty Lee her friends, and now she was being faced with that possibly not being the case.

Still, Mai had a point. Now that Azula and Iroh were both in the hall, there wasn’t much keeping them in the palace. They had a ship waiting to take them across the sea to the Earth Kingdom and transport from the port there to Ba Sing Se. There was a schedule to be followed.

“You’ll be able to go once Suki gets here,” Zuko told his sister. She wrinkled her nose.

“What’s _Suki_ got to do with anything?”

There was something about the way Azula’s mouth moved around Suki’s name that meant something to Zuko, he just couldn’t put his finger on what. He said, “Well, she’s captain of the Warriors, and they’re leading the guard to the docks, for one.”

“You would have Earth Kingdom _dirt girls_ in a higher position than your own Fire Nation guards?” Azula asked.

Zuko frowned at her. “They’re competent fighters, and I trust them. Anyway, _you’re_ the one who dismissed more than three fourths of the existing palace guard, and that’s not counting those that were involved in the military assault. So I don’t know what exactly you’d propose.”

Azula made a face at Zuko, and it was just so _different_ now that she’d cut all her hair off. Her cheekbones were wider without hair framing them, and her features were rounder. Zuko searched her face, his gaze lingering over the tiny, now healed burns she’d gotten from embers blowing back in her face during the Agni Kai. Like Katara had said after healing them, they had the appearance of freckles against her otherwise creamy skin. 

Without the customary coat of makeup, Zuko could see Azula’s face as it was when they were kids. There were a handful of blemishes across her face, a small mole on her cheek, and a scar on the corner of her jaw from falling in the garden when they were young. 

Looking at her then was like seeing her for the first time in years. He was struck with the sudden thought of how different their lives might have been — what it would be like if they had grown up as a united front instead of pitted against each other. It made him feel something like homesickness. He suddenly missed Azula desperately — not the Azula standing in front of him, but the one he’d petted and kissed as a baby in Ursa’s arms; the one he used to sneak into the kitchen with to steal sweets.

“What?” Azula asked, glowering. She sounded unsure, like she was waiting for fire. 

For whatever reason, Zuko couldn’t bring himself to lie to her. He did know better than to answer Azula’s questions in an unguarded way, but still he said, “I feel like I miss you even though I’m looking right at you.”

“You’re not going to miss me,” Azula said immediately. Her tone brokered no room for argument. “You don’t even like me.”

“I didn’t say I was _going_ to miss you,” Zuko snapped. His words lacked any real venom. “And how can I say whether I like you or not? I don’t even know you anymore, and you’re my sister.”

“Here’s what you need to know. What do you call that burn in the middle of your chest?” Azula asked, jaw set. Her eyes were again fixed up and on a nothing-point somewhere across the room, making her the picture of disdain. It would’ve worked if her body hadn’t gone rigid.

“Well, it’s a lightning blast,” Zuko began, narrowing his own eyes.

“Right,” Azula interrupted, cutting her eyes back to her brother, “from _me_. While I was…”

“While you were trying to kill Katara, okay, I _get_ it,” Zuko finished for her, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. She really _was_ hard to like. 

At the reminder that Katara had almost been killed, Zuko could feel Aang tense next to him, no doubt looking across the hall to ensure that Katara was still there, still safe. Aang was squeamish about death; his meltdown about not wanting to kill Ozai was testament enough to that. What could his thought process be, wanting to treat Azula ethically but also facing how comfortable she was with murder?

Ty Lee, with her wide, sweet gray eyes so similar to Aang’s, gave Azula what could only be described as a simper, finally deciding to wade into whatever was flowing between the siblings. “Azula, I think what Fire Lord Zuko is trying to say is—”

“I don’t give a damn what _Fire Lord Zuko_ is trying to say,” Azula snapped, her eyes flashing as she finally looked away from the nothing-point. “What’s done is done. And I don’t care if he doesn’t like me, or if Mai doesn’t like me, or if _you_ don’t like me anymore. I’ll be fine on my own!”

Zuko found his gaze drawn to Mai, whose knuckles had gone white with the way she was gripping her own elbows. She was blinking up, rapidly, and though it was hard to tell behind her blunt bangs it looked like she might be fighting tears. That alone was enough to fill Zuko with dread. Mai simply _didn’t get_ emotional. He must’ve made some noise, because suddenly her watery eyes were on him and she was giving a sharp little jerk of her head. _Don’t_ , the motion said. So Zuko didn’t say anything.

“Oh, look,” Ty Lee said, gesturing gracefully across the hall. 

Suki and Sokka were hand-in-hand, nodding to the guards as they entered the hall. That alone made it obvious that they hadn’t been raised in the Fire Nation, where it was taboo for someone of status to really acknowledge working staff.

Azula was biting the inside of her cheek; she made a show of rolling her eyes and looking away. Zuko didn’t realize that he, too, was biting the inside of his cheek until he saw her doing so. The habit was an old one, so old he couldn’t remember picking it up — but the way Azula did it, too, had him thinking that maybe they’d learned it from Ursa.

“Well, I’m gonna go say hi to Sokka,” Aang said. He was probably itching for an out, or at the very least to return to Katara’s side. To Ty Lee, he said, “Enjoy Kyoshi Island! I bet you’ll love it. There’s elephant koi — and the Unagi!”

“What, no send-off for me?” Azula drawled. It was like she couldn’t help herself: she needed the attention, she needed to make people’s brains and stomachs flip and twist.

Aang pulled a face, trying to catch Zuko’s eye. Zuko didn’t let him. 

“Uh,” Aang said, wringing his hands. He settled on, “Thanks for… _not_ killing my friends. I hope you like the tea shop.”

Azula rolled her eyes again but didn’t say anything more as Aang scampered away.

“Come on, Mai, let’s go hang out with the girls,” Ty Lee chirped, her hand finding Mai’s wrist and clamping down like she had no worry about potentially catching the blade of a knife. Over her shoulder, already pulling Mai away, Ty Lee said, “I’ll write, if you’d like, Fire Lord Zuko.”

That took Zuko by surprise, but even if she’d always been Azula’s friend first and foremost, he had always known Ty Lee. “You don’t have to call me ‘Fire Lord’, Ty Lee. I’d like that, though.”

She gave him one of her blinding smiles, bounced a little, and went back to tugging Mai along. 

That left Azula and Zuko. It was fitting, in a way — they had always been alone in crowded rooms. Why would this be any different?

Zuko wasn’t about to try engaging his sister in conversation. There was nothing he wanted to say to her, not really. Anyway, if there was, she’d just convolute it and throw it back at him. The day was nearing its middle, but it still wasn’t old enough for Zuko to be able to put up with much more of that. He had his limits. Instead, he found his eyes drawn across the hall — to Sokka and Suki.

Sokka had one arm around Suki’s waist and Suki was on her toes with her arms around his shoulders. Nothing could fit in between them, not even a piece of parchment. If Suki wasn’t in her heavily draped Kyoshi Warrior uniform, Zuko had no doubt that her muscles would be on display. She supported herself completely, with her arms around Sokka not to hold herself up on her toes but instead to simply hold him. Sokka was talking to his sister and Aang, apparently engrossed in the conversation and everything — it was like having Suki plastered against his side was second nature. Maybe it was.

Momo had moved from Aang to Katara, and was tilting his head to each side as he watched whatever conversation was going on. Katara was saying something, gesturing broadly with her hands. Aang obviously interrupted her with something that made Sokka’s face fall dramatically, comically; Suki visibly laughed before pressing a lingering kiss to Sokka’s cheekbone. Zuko’s stomach twisted.

Azula sighed loudly next to Zuko. He wrenched his gaze away from Sokka and Suki to look over his shoulder at her. “What?”

“It just never fails to consternate,” Azula said loftily. It was incredible how she could sound so high and mighty when she was in chains and had shorn her hair like someone honorless.

“Are you going to elaborate, or are you just speaking to hear your own voice?”

Azula’s chains clinked as she moved to gesture as much as she could. With little success there, she jutted her chin towards Sokka and Suki. “I just don’t see what a girl like her sees in a guy like him.”

“You—?” Zuko spluttered. How could Azula not see all Sokka had to offer? “You don’t see what she sees in _Sokka_?”

“That’s what I just _said_ ,” Azula said, making a face at her brother. “Are you deaf as well as blind?”

The real answer to that was _a little bit_ , but Zuko settled instead for pulling a mirroring sneer at her. “You know he broke into the _Boiling Rock_ for her,”

“I thought he was looking for his father, not her?” Azula asked, more than anything, to point out that Zuko had the semantics wrong. “Anyway, you know I was the one who told him she was in prison? On the Day of the Black Sun.”

“Why’d you do that?” 

Azula shrugged. “To mess with his head, obviously. Emotions will get to people if you know where to apply pressure. It made him _cry_ . He kept fighting, though… thought he was going to punch me in the face. _I_ would’ve, if our roles were reversed.”

Misplaced anger rose in Zuko’s chest. How could Azula gloat over that? And how had Sokka been able to hear that in the middle of fighting her, and then have had the strength to keep going?

“Azula, you’re—”

“What? A _monster_? You know, someone is going to have to come up with a better insult at some point. You can only hear the same thing so many times.”

Zuko froze. That wasn’t what he had been planning on saying, but he found all the wind leaving his sails anyway. There was no fun in even bickering when he had to remember that Azula had been as mistreated as he was — to remember that perhaps she’d felt even less loved than Zuko had. She didn’t have a burn over half of her face, but she certainly had wounds that Zuko couldn’t see. Once he had started to realize that, he couldn’t get it out of his mind. Everything he had ever known about her had started to reform. He didn’t know how to feel anymore. He missed being a child with her desperately. It was like a maw in his chest, the lightning blast laid open again: the desire to go back to the beginning and fix it all. The desire to be anywhere but where he was, a crown on his head and more alone by the day.

Azula was watching Zuko closely as she could without looking interested, or like she cared about what his response might be. After she decided the silence between them had gone on too long, she prompted, “Well?”

Zuko shook his head slowly. His thoughts were a quagmire, threatening to hold him tight. He took a deep breath and tried to reframe them. “Maybe you’ll learn something new in Ba Sing Se.”

“Without you around to call me names? No chance,” Azula drawled, obviously meaning it as a jab.

He _knew_ it wasn’t what she intended, but for a moment Zuko felt like he could pretend like it was years ago and they were still just the grandchildren of the Fire Lord — just kids. Calling each other names and sending sparks to singe the edges of each other’s clothes; running through the house and hiding behind Ursa like she could protect them.

He ached, and he wondered if Azula ever ached like that, too.

“Maybe you’ll find out who you really are,” Zuko said when the silence was once again too heavy.

Azula scoffed. “Just because you think _you_ don’t know me doesn’t mean that _I_ don’t know myself. Believe me, I do. But tell me, brother, do you know who you are?”

Zuko considered Azula with a sideways glance, setting his jaw. Again and again in that hall, he was seeing her anew. “Yeah, I’m the sibling better at lying.”

And for once, Azula didn’t argue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is confused about the wording regarding the journey Azula and Iroh are taking to Ba Sing Se, please refer to [this](https://avatar.fandom.com/wiki/Map_of_the_World_of_Avatar) map! Otherwise, let me know and I can explain it better 😌 I spent a silly amount of time thinking through it lol
> 
> Stay tuned for more of that sweet Zuko + Aang bonding as well as What Happens At The Docks (an event which is notated in my outline with [this meme](https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/001/264/842/220.png) xoxo 😜
> 
> This chapter is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own!  
> My lovely beta [Olly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyasinthum/pseuds/Hyasinthum) is starting grad school, so i'm ISO of a new beta!! you can find my post on that [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/post/633644468542865408/i-am-once-again-in-search-of-a-beta-for-my-fic/). 
> 
> You can find me always on my ATLA & LOK bullshit [here](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/) 💘

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on [tumblr](https://fluffyappa.tumblr.com/)


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